


The Dragon and the Wolf

by C1ashi1dr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 49
Words: 61,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C1ashi1dr/pseuds/C1ashi1dr
Summary: Collection of Danarya one-shots





	1. Accident in the Stacks

**Author's Note:**

> Arya is an intern at the library in her college and has noticed a certain silver-haired beauty that comes in every day to study for hours on end. If only she could gather the courage to speak to her.

It was a job to pay her rent, that was all Arya could say about it. It wasn’t that she hated being surrounded by books all day (although she couldn’t say she loved them with all of her heart) nor was it the crowds that flowed in and out around finals time. No, it was the annoying pain in the ass pricks that had come up to her every other day asking about the study books that had already been checked out for two or three weeks.

Still, working at the library wasn’t that bad of a job. Arya had made friends with two of the other librarians, Olenna Tyrell, an older woman who had been working there for as long as anyone could remember, and Yara Greyjoy, the daughter of a close family friend. Both were very enjoyable, and Arya got to bury herself in the stacks, shelving and listening to music for hours at a time.

And, there was one more, larger reason that Arya enjoyed her job, not that she would tell anyone but Sansa, her sister and roommate. She came in everyday at noon and stayed until it was time for the library to close (12 AM). The girl had silver hair and violet eyes, and Arya knew she had completely fallen for the beauty. She couldn’t explain it, but watching her sit there for hours at a time, turning pages with whatever she was reading made her want to go over and talk to her. In speaking of the beauty...there she was now. Arya sighed quietly without realizing it and Yara elbowed her in the side.

“You crushing on the Targaryen, Stark?” the woman teased, and Arya moved to hush her as quickly as she could when the violet eyes turned to the desk where they had situated themselves for the next little while. Arya ducked under the counter at the last minute pretending to be doing one task or another until she was sure the eyes were off of where she had been. “Arya, you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“I’m checking the connection of the computer, Yara,” Arya said, trying to defend herself as she rose from where she was kneeling. Yara merely laughed and went to check in some of the returned books while Arya sat at the desk, chin in her palms as she watched the woman, the Targaryen as Yara had called her, flip open a book and begin to read. In the back of her mind, Arya registered that it was probably creepy to sit and watch someone study for hours on end, but then it probably wasn’t healthy for said person to be studying for hours on end.

Arya sighed quietly to herself, wishing that she could gather up the courage to go and talk to her, but what could she say. “Hi, I work here and I’ve been watching you from the desk every day for the last six months. Wanna go on a date?” Yeah, no. That wouldn’t fly, and she would probably lose the only chance she had. No, it was better to sit and pine from a distance. The young woman shook her head and ducked under the desk once more to retrieve the books she had been checking in when there was a clearing of a throat above her head. Arya quickly sat up, banging her head on the underside of the counter.

“Damn,” Arya uttered, looking up, eyes going wide as the beauty that Yara had named Targaryen was standing there, biting her lip. “Oh, uhh, hello!” Oops, too loud. People were looking, and the woman just looked amused. Arya felt her face heat up, but she breathed deeply and put on her best face. “How can I help you?” There, that was a better, more manageable. Still, the amused look was on her face. 

“I’m looking for a book on local family histories,” the woman said. “Could you point me in the right direction?” 

“Of course,” Arya said. “Here, I’ll show you. This place can be a maze.” There, that wasn’t creepy at all, was it? She just wanted to help out a patron, that was all. She offered the woman a smile as she circled about the desk to lead her to the section that she needed. The woman followed her closely, and Arya wished that she wasn’t trying to be a professional.

As she had said, the library was a maze, but Arya was able to navigate easily, coming to a stop in the section that the woman wanted. “Here we are,” she said, grinning as she swept an arm towards the shelf. “Everything from the Lannisters to the Starks, myself included, and everything in between.” The woman turned to look at her, tilting her head to the side. 

“Do you have any on the Targaryens?” the girl asked, and Arya nodded, eager to please as she rose to her tiptoes to pull out a large old volume from the shelf. It was a few inches above her reach, so Arya jumped a bit to grasp it. Grasp it she did, but it came tumbling down, and it was only the quick reaction of the other woman that saved her from a painful headache.

As the dust settled, Arya looked up from where she had ducked to shield her face to see the leather bound book cover above her head. She looked at the woman, who was looking weighted by the book, so Arya positioned herself to be able to hold it as well, grinning.

“Ugh, that could have ended in total disaster. Thank you Miss…” Arya struggled to come up with a name, realizing that she had never asked for it, and she hadn’t weaseled it out of Yara before the girl had left her be.

“Daenerys Targaryen.” She had known the last name, but her first name was even more beautiful than her last name. “But just call be Daenerys, please.”

“Of course.” There was an awkward pause before Arya realized herself. “I’m Arya Stark.” The words were a jumble, barely intelligible, but Daenerys smiled, almost making Arya melt into a puddle of goo. “Do you-would you want to check this out?” Arya asked, stumbling over her words once more. 

“Yes, thank you,” Daenerys said and Arya took the book from her, leading her back to the desk, where Yara had positioned herself, feet propped up against the desk. When the Greyjoy saw Arya with Daenerys, a small, sly smirk slid across her face, but Arya ignored her in favor of the silver-haired, violet-eyed beauty who circled around the front of the desk. Arya set the giant book down on the counter, entering a few things into her computer before scanning it into the system as being checked out.

“Here’s your receipt,” Arya said, handing her the strip of paper with the giant book and a grin for her new favorite person. Daenerys smiled back and retreated back to her table. 

And like that, it was over, the interaction Arya had been wishing for, gone in the blink of an eye. Oh well, at least she had a name now. Perhaps she could get to know the other woman well enough. 

Later that night, after a full day of being teased by Yara and then by Sansa, whom she had met for lunch and had told of the interaction, Arya was a cleaning off the tables while Daenerys sat at the table, reading under the dim light of a small lamp on the table. Arya was fighting to not be distracted by the beauty, and she wiped down another table, picking discarded books off of it to put them back for shelving. As she worked, the Stark was aware of Daenerys shifting at her table, but didn’t look over, assuming the woman was taking her book and leaving for the night. It was almost time to go.

There was a gentle rush of air as Daenerys moved behind her and a piece of paper fluttered to the table Arya had been wiping. The woman picked up the paper and was about hand it back before her eyes caught the words written on the paper.

Thanks for the help getting the book. Call me  
~Daenerys 

Arya stared after the beauty, completely floored with the phone number she had just gotten. She could not wait to rub this in Yara’s face.


	2. A Case of Mistaken Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a prank gone wrong by her close friend Jon, Daenerys spots him on the street and goes to confront him, only to be met with a pleasant surprise

Daenerys would have sworn that it was Jon. In hindsight, that was the best excuse she had. Short brown locks, similar build (though the hair wasn’t as curly, she didn’t really think of that at the time) and the gait of ‘Jon’ was similar enough that Dany felt rage boil in her stomach. Just a few days prior, her friend had had decided it would be the greatest idea to dye all of her white shirts an unsightly pink.

“You ass!” she shouted, shoving him forward. Jon stumbled and turned, looking bewildered. And, with embarrassment, Dany realized that it wasn’t Jon staring back at her, though the woman looked very, very similar to him. The others on the street barely spared them a glance, and Dany felt her face heat up. Ah, so it wasn’t Jon then.

“What the fuck?” the woman said, bewildered look fading to be replaced by an acute anger, burning in steel gray eyes. Daenerys searched for words, avoiding the expectant look on the woman’s face. She knew she should apologize, but the words wouldn’t come to her. 

“I thought you were someone else?” Dany said, hoping it would be an explanation, but the smaller woman just crossed her arms, frown creasing her brow. “I’m really sorry.” There, she was finally able to say it. Jeez, it shouldn’t have taken that long to say it.

“You thought I was someone else, so you came up to me, shoved me, and called me an ass? Am I correct in that assessment?” the woman asked, still openly hostile to Daenerys. The silver-haired woman’s face grew hot and she looked at the ground, avoiding the accusing steel eyes.

“Yes...” she admitted meekly and she heard a huff from the shorter woman, one that sounded faintly reminiscent of Jon when he was annoyed with her. Secretly, Dany found it adorable, but she wouldn’t allow herself to think of that for another second

“And this person that looks like me, what’s her name?” Daenerys started at the question, violet eyes rising to meet the gray eyes. There was skepticism, but also a glimmer of amusement.

“His name is Jon,” Dany said, and recognition sparked across the woman’s face, and her eyes flitted over Dany’s form, visibly stopping at her chest for an instant before their eyes met once more. Dany felt her cheeks heat up as the other woman smirked.

“You must be Daenerys then,” the woman said knowingly, and Dany was taken aback. How did this woman know who she was? “Jon speaks very highly of you, you know. I do think you’re one of his closest friends.”

“And you know Jon because…?”

“He is my brother,” the woman said, and Daenerys nodded, faintly remembering that Jon had, in fact, mentioned having a sister. Two, if she could recall correctly. “Arya Stark at your service.”

“Stark, not Snow?” Daenerys asked, and she nodded. Dany shrugged, deciding not to push it if this Arya woman did not want to talk about it. “Well, I apologize again, Arya, for being so rude.”

“Don’t worry. Your assessment of Jon was correct. He can be quite an ass, though I don’t know what could possess you to shout it to the world,” the brown haired girl grinned at her and Dany couldn’t help but grin back at her. “What did he do?”

“He dyed all of my shirts,” Dany replied. “And, before you start laughing, they were white and he dyed them all pink and I can no longer wear them. I hate him so much sometimes,” The Targaryen shook her head as Arya obviously muffled a laugh behind a cough. Dany really didn’t mind as much as she was implying.

“Of course Daenerys,” the Stark replied, voice breathy as Dany shoved her again, making her protest. “Hey, you need to stop pushing me around, it’s not nice.” So hear such whiny words from a young woman who looked so hardened from life, Dany bit back a laugh herself and apologized once more.

The two realized that they were an obstruction to the rest of the world and began to walk along the sidewalk, talking mostly about Jon, but also a bit about themselves. Like Dany, Arya was a college student, though she learned that Arya was only two years younger than her, making her a freshman. Dany also learned that Jon was her half-brother, taking the name of his mother, who he never knew. Eventually, Dany made it where she needed to be, the campus of Northern University, and they parted way, not before exchanging phone numbers with a small blush coloring Arya’s cheeks. Dany was glad that Jon had been such an ass, even if it meant she would have to buy a completely new set of shirts. Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and she looked around for a couple of seconds before pulling out her phone.

Meet me at Weirwood Park at six for a late night picnic. Please say yes.  
~~Arya

Dany grinned to herself as she entered the building, already late for class as she typed out her reply.

It’s a date.  
~~Dany

She could practically feel the blush coloring her cheeks, and hoped that there was one coloring Arya’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this wasn't as romantic as the last one. Stay tuned.


	3. Lifeguard on Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany thought that being a lifeguard would be more exciting than sitting on a stand and watching people all day. However, sometimes she gets a taste of action, and the brown haired girl in the deep end looked to be in a lot of trouble.

Dany

Daenerys slowly swung the whistle around her finger, watching the small piece of plastic go around and around. Boredom was etched into every line of her features, from the furrowing of her brow to the slight frown tugging at the edge of her lips. It wasn’t that she hated her job, far from it, it was only that she didn’t see the action that she had longed to see. Being a lifeguard was quite boring when no one was actually drowning. Still, it was her job, and she was being paid to look after whoever was in the pool, so she let her whistle fall limp as she took her regular glance across the pool, just to see if anyone was in danger. The children in the shallow end were splashing, but didn’t seem to be panicking. Good, she didn’t want another false alarm. Her violet eyes continued to span the expanse of water, and as she looked across she noticed a small group of teens and young adults, most of them looking at the water where Dany spotted the shape of a young woman. Dany turned her gaze fully to the girl, waiting for her to surface, but even after 10 seconds she didn’t. Alarms began to go off in her.

Dany’s whistle, which had just been whirling through the air, was pressed to her lips, a shrill tweet escaping it as Dany grabbed the rescue tube sitting beside her and jumped into the water. She moved quickly, inserting herself into the group as she slowed, grabbing the girl about the shoulders, pulling her back from the water, settling her onto the tube to drag her to the edge of the pool. 

Unlike most she had rescued, however, the girl she had saved wasn’t spitting water, nor was she breathing heavily. She looked...calm, of all things. Steel gray eyes were wide open and watching her with curiosity and a hint of annoyance glinted there. A hand came up to wipe the water from those eyes and Dany continued to pull them over to the wall of the pool, resting there for a while, propped against the wall as she rested, feet kicking to keep herself afloat while her rescuee recovered from her ordeal.

“Are you okay?” Dany asked finally, brushing water from her face as she watched the young woman. Dark brown hair was plastered to her face, and Dany barely made note of the bikini sticking to skin. Further examination revealed that the woman was muscled, across the planes of her arm and what she could see of her legs.

“I’m fine,” the woman said, her voice rough, perhaps not from chlorine. It seemed to be a quality of her voice, that gravelly edge. There was silence, the sound of the pool resuming around them. “I wasn’t drowning,” she added after that pause. 

“It looked like you were,” Dany said, feeling herself get defensive. She had just risked her neck for this woman, and she didn’t even have the courtesy to say thank you. “You shouldn’t float face down in the water for that long. What were you doing that compelled you to do that?” The woman frowned at her and slid off the tube, making Dany want to drag her back up onto it, just to keep her safe. How dare she? How dare she?

“My family is really competitive,” the woman said, pointing at the broken circle, who were looking at them with a question in their eyes. A quick look over them showed that nearly all of them had flaming red hair and blue eyes, but one man, with curly brown hair, like the young woman’s, with the same steel gray eyes. “And, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to them.” Using short strokes, the woman swam away, the muscles in her back rippling, not that Dany was watching. Dany frowned, climbing from the pool to return to her stand. After the disturbance faded, the job returned to its normal boring standard, and Dany was about to start swinging her whistle once more when familiar steel gray eyes met hers across the pool. The woman waved.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Arya

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

It had only been a stupid dare that Jon had given her, seeing how long she could hold her breath underwater. He shouldn’t have challenged her, seeing as she nearly always won their bets, and she was able to win a bit of money for it. However, the entire thing had been ruined when that stupidly gorgeous lifeguard had butted in to rescue her. Arya had noticed her across the pool before her and the rest of the Stark children had gotten into the pool. She was beautiful, but any standards, and Sansa had teased her about keeping her eyes off the lifeguard.

Now that she was back with her family, they were pushing her about, questioning her to the tune of ‘Are you okay?’ and ‘What happened?’ Arya pushed their questions off with short answers, occasionally looking over her shoulder at the lifeguard who had ‘saved her life’. She couldn’t help thinking she had been rude to her, completely disregarding what had been done for her. The thought dug guilt into her stomach, and when it came time for the siblings to finish their excursion, Arya pulled herself from the water, determined to do something about it. As she was toweling off, Arya’s eyes scanned the lifeguard chairs, hoping to catch sight of the head of silver hair. When she found it, violet eyes met hers and she lifted her hand in an awkward wave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

The lifeguard waved back, albeit looking a tad confused, and Arya quickly excused herself from her siblings to go over and properly talk to her. Steeling herself, Arya walked around the perimeter of the pool, careful not to move too quickly. When she reached the chair that held her rescuer, the woman was already back to looking out at the pool. Arya softly cleared her throat to catch her attention. The woman jumped, and looked down at her, startled.

“Hello,” Arya said, hoping she didn’t sound too awkward. “I just wanted to say thanks, for, you know, saving me earlier. I think I wasn’t as thankful as I should have been. So, thank you, I suppose.”

“I was only doing my job,” the beauty said, looking at her with a calm expression. Arya, personally thought she looked more bored than calm. “Thank you for realizing how wrong you were, however, Miss…”

“Arya,” the steel eyed girl supplied quickly, eagerly. She wanted to get to know this intriguing person. What would drive someone to want to be a lifeguard at a public pool? A summer job, perhaps? A passion? She didn’t know, but she wanted to. “Arya Stark, but my siblings call me annoying most of the time.” That earned her a grin and Arya returned it automatically.

“Daenerys Targaryen, but most people just call me Daenerys. Very few get to call me Dany,” the lifeguard replied, and Arya nodded eagerly.

“Of course,” Arya said. “Uh, do you maybe want to get a burger sometime? Just as a thank you for saving my life?” Arya hoped that she didn’t sound too desperate to Dany. The lifeguard nodded once and Arya pulled her phone from the shorts she had slid on. She opened her contacts and held it out to Daenerys, who took it and typed in a number. “I’ll text you with the information,” Arya promised. “See you then.” Then Arya got out of there as quickly as she could, retreating back to her siblings who both mocked her and patted her on the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if y'all want to give me a prompt, go ahead and I'll to my best to write what you want.


	4. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya is an assassin sent to kill the new queen of Westeros, Daenerys. But things do not always go as planned, and this is one such instance.

Wind whispered through the silk curtains of the Red Keep, brushing against the clothing of the assassin perched in the queen’s window. She sat there, watching the silver haired dragon sleep, dagger ready. Smooth as shadows, the assassin slid from the ledge of the window to the floor of the large chambers. She barely even breathed as she moved, almost at the bed.

Queen Daenerys Targaryen had been crowned only a year before, and yet the price on her head was still greater than the one that had been on Cersei’s. Arya Stark (who had learned the art of assassination in her youth) had no grudge against the Queen, but money was money, and Arya was not one to argue with a price tag. It didn’t matter to her whether or not Westeros fell into chaos while it searched for a ruler. She would merely flee back to Essos and live in luxury as she had been for years.

“If you are here to kill me, I would rather you get it over with,” a sleepy voice from the bed said, and Arya cursed mentally, knowing she had already made a grave mistake in her mission. “If not, allow me to continue to sleep.”

“Daenerys Targaryen,” Arya said, finding her voice easily enough. “There is quite the bounty upon your head.” There was a rustle of cloth and Arya could make out the outline of the Queen sitting up in her bed. She was wearing a small dress and Arya knew it would be so easy to approach and make her kill. Something held her back, however, and she took slow steps towards her target.

“This I know,” Daenerys said, nodding as Arya made her approach. “And yet, you have not pushed a blade through my throat, so there must be something you wish of me beyond the price.” It was Arya’s turn to nod and she came to a stop at the foot of the bed, watching Daenerys with careful eyes. “So, I must ask, what is it that you wish of me?”

“The world speaks of you, Your Grace,” Arya said. “They say you are a tyrant and a gracious ruler at the same time. They call you a savage and a lady, a compassionate woman and a deadly warrior. I seek the truth as to who you are, what you are. And then I can kill you.” The Queen smirked and it made Arya feel uneasy, an unusual feeling for her. 

“You seem very sure of yourself,” Daenerys said and she withdrew from her blankets, watching her with the same careful gaze. “How positive are you that you can kill me?” Arya frowned, disliking the doubt in her abilities.

“I am certain that I can kill you,” Arya said confidently, drawing herself upon the bed. “I merely want my answers. I am a curious person, my nature cannot help it. Answer my questions and I will kill you painlessly.” 

Daenerys clicked her tongue against her feet and moved down the bed to where Arya was sitting. “I am certain I can dissuade you from your mission. If it is gold you wish for, I can give you all the gold in the world. If it is assurance you want, I can give you guards. And I can give you answers, but I refuse to do so under the threat of my life.” Arya’s frown deepened. She was not used to her targets arguing. Usually they only pleaded and soiled themselves, but Daenerys was subverting all of her expectations. “And if it company you desire, I am a very good companion.” Those words made Arya’s face heat with embarrassment, and she almost stumbled over her next words, just like a Greenboy. It made her hate herself even more.

“I need no company, Your Grace,” Arya said. “And I cannot leave you alive tonight.” Daenerys merely grinned and drew closer, making Arya’s body flame. The Northerner hoped it was merely the blood of the Dragon warming her so greatly. Before Arya could say another word in her defense, soft lips were pressed her own, and she found herself drawn in deeper, and deeper.

Finally, she pulled away, using nearly all of her strength to do so. Her breath pulled out in harsh pants, but she pieced together words anyway. “Your Grace, this is not a wise choice,” Arya whispered. “I am not who you want me to be, I am a monster, dirty and unworthy-

“I do not care how wise it is. And I do not care who you are, or what you have done. Here, in the dark of the night, nothing matters beyond you and me,” Daenerys replied, coaxing a shorter kiss from her. “Your Queen demands something of you. You would refuse her?”

“Of course not,” Arya said, forgetting about her duty to kill the Queen, and fell into her arms instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be angsty as heck, so just a heads-up


	5. A Long Time Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys knew that Arya had a dark side, and that sometimes it took over without Arya able to control it. There comes a time, however, when one can no longer give grace, and justice must be served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death ahead, y'all. Not super graphic, but it's there. So uh...sorry.

It was the fault of Daenerys, she placed the blame squarely on her own shoulders. She had been the one to take an assassin into her bed, someone who had a flawed mind, a flawed personality, a dark side that was the most terrifying thing that Daenerys had ever seen. It was the soft side that Dany had seen of her that led her to keep Arya around for much longer than she should have. The Northerner was so sweet and could be so gentle, and Dany had foolishly thought that she could bring that side of her further into the light. 

And now here they stood, her lover of so long, bound in shackles, dried blood still staining her clothes and her hands, which were restrained by iron. The wolf in her was burning brighter than ever, eyes alight, as though with fever. Dany had long wondered if it would ever have to come to this point, and it seemed as though the answer was yes. The fevered eyes met hers and Dany felt a pang of pity shoot through her heart, making her ache. She steeled herself, however. This is what needed to be done, for the good of her people.

“Arya Stark, you stand accused of murder and plots of treason against the Queen and the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros,” her voice was strong, or so she hoped. The words hurt to say, and it hurt to watch her former lover hang her head, as though below the wolf was the woman the Queen knew. “How do you answer these charges?”

“Before the eyes of the Gods and man, I confess my guilt to the charges placed before me,” Arya replied and it broke Dany’s heart to hear the resignation in Arya’s voice. She wanted her wolf to fight this, to fight whatever was in her, but she was also glad that Arya wouldn’t fight. She wasn’t sure her fighters, however good they were, could be a match for the tiny assassin. “I accept whatever punishment you give to me.”

“The punishment for treason is always death,” Dany said, and her voice caught on the words. She cleared it and kept going, voice wobbling in a few places. “By the name of Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I do sentence you to death .” 

No one cheered as Daenerys took the greatsword Flame in her hands, one forged for her by Arya, who had always told her that the one who passes the sentence should be the one to swing the sword. One of the Unsullied slammed Arya’s head down upon the block, holding her there fast so that Dany would have a clean view of Arya’s neck. The plane of skin was one that she had often explored, and it pained her to see it here, stretched out before her, under the shadow of Flame.

“Make it quick, My Queen,” Arya said. “Make the world better, return my bones to Winterfell, for the sake of my family.” Those words passed chapped lips and Dany swung the blade with all of her might. It was finished.


	6. Dragon's Hate to Share (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a visit to Winterfell, Arya encounters an old friend, sparking jealousy in her Dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this ended up being so long. It just...happened.

Deep in the walls of Winterfell, Daenerys laid in bed, curled around the Wolf who had shared her bed as of late. Arya Stark was already awake, Dany could tell by the rise and fall of her consort’s chest, where Dany’s hand rest, a protective layer above her lover’s heart. Dany did not want to rise. She wanted to stay in the bed all day, wrapped around the Wolf she claimed as her own, surrounded by warmth and love. Arya, however, had other plans, and she managed to coax the sleepy Dragon from the warmth with small kisses and promises of a hot breakfast. Daenerys didn’t want to leave, but she listened to her closest advisor and rose, changing from her sleep clothes into a dress lined with fur and a cloak that had been gifted to her by Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell. Arya dressed on the opposite side of the room, changing into leather armor and a cloak of her own, pinned in place above her breast, where the insignia of a three headed being rested. Two heads were that of a dragon, but the third was of a direwolf, signifying the unity between the Houses of Targaryen and Stark. It made Dany’s heart swell to see it there.

“Your Grace,” Arya said, sweeping into a deep bow as she opened the door, making Dany roll her eyes. No matter what she said, Arya always insisted on being proper with her when they were away from the privacy of their bed. Dany exited the room that they had been given, Arya closing the door behind her, locking it as a precaution. Daenerys waited for her consort to finish with her task before moving down the corridors.

“Do you know where Missandei is residing? I wish to have a word with her before we meet with your sister for breakfast,” Daenerys asked, and Arya nodded, leading her to where the translator was staying. The Stark stayed outside the door, even as Dany beckoned her to enter. Daenerys sighed heavily and turned to Missandei, who was looking amused.

“You cannot force her, Your Grace,” Missandei said. “From what I have seen of them, the Starks are a stubborn breed, those who would go their own way even if it spelled death. Let her guard you like the wolf she is. Such a thing will put her mind at ease, if only for a little while.” Daenerys knew she was right, but Missandei didn’t know Arya like Daenerys did. The Wolf was stubborn, yes, but she was more protective as late. Dany did not share her doubts with her advisor, however, seeing as she needed time to think them over for herself. 

“Of course, you are right,” Daenerys lied easily, straightening her back. “Will you be at the conference today?” Missandei nodded, and they spoke briefly before Arya informed Daenerys that it was time to meet the Lady of WInterfell for a Northerner breakfast. As they walked, arms brushing, stepping in sync, Dany turned to examine Arya, who stood at her side, walking with confidence. Daenerys realized again how much she loved the Wolf, no matter how protective. 

“What are you doing today, Arya?” Dany asked as they walked along. “Practicing with the men, I would assume.” The Northerner chuckled deeply, making Dany crack a smile, as she always did when she heard Arya laugh. 

“It is where I seem to spend all of my time nowadays, isn’t it?” Arya said. “I was not, however, thinking of training the men today. I thought that I would sit in on the meeting. I am intrigued to learn what you and my family are planning for our attack against the Night King, seeing as I will be helping to lead our men into the battle. However, before I am able to join you, there is another meeting that I must attend. Inform my siblings I will be late.”

“Of course,” Daenerys said. “I would assume your siblings would be used to your perpetual tardiness.” Arya frowned, and Dany only smiled sweetly at her in return. She enjoyed messing with the wolf, it turned out to be one of her favorite past times. Still, she was curious as to who it was that Arya needed to meet with that she hadn’t met with already. She bit her tongue to keep from asking as they entered the Great Hall, where moany of the Northern Lords had already gathered for a breakfast with the Warden of the North, Sansa Stark, who was seated at the head of the table. Brandon Stark sat at her left hand, the space at her right hand left open for the visiting Queen.

“Your Grace,” the Lady Stark said, rising from her seat to curtsy. Daenerys returned the gesture, though it was unbecoming of a queen. She owed much to the flaming haired sister of her consort, from regaining the peace in the NOrth to bending the knee without resistance. She was also excellent counsel in desperate times, as Daenerys had learned as winter had taken it’s first from her lands. “Arya.”

“Sansa, you look well this morning,” Arya said, stepping ahead of her Queen to pull out a chair for her. Daenerys sat graciously, and Arya took the seat at her right hand, as she often did. “Did you sleep well enough with the racket going on in the courtyards?” Of course, Arya was referring to wildlings who had taken refuge in Winterfell while they readied their army. Jon had managed to convince them to fight on the side of the living, thankfully, but they were quite noisy, as Arya had pointed out.

“I’ve grown used to the noise that the wildlings made,” Sansa said. “You forget, Arya, that I live here at all times, not when it suits me. They have been living here for quite some time, and it soothes me to bed now.” Arya grinned in her wolfish way, and said nothing more as she ate.

Soon, plates were cleared and war maps were brought, and Lord Snow emerged from his chambers. It was then that Arya took her leave, and, once the wolf was well out of sight, Dany rose and followed her, to see exactly what this meeting was. She trusted Arya fully, but her curiosity always got the better of her in these situations. 

Daenerys heard Arya’s voice through the corridors, the gravelly timbre recognized immediately. She followed the sound until another voice came from beyond a door, deeper, more masculine. Dany hunkered down by the door, ear pressed to it to hear the conversation.

“And she doesn’t know?” That was the man, and Arya gave a chuckle, not the one she often shared with Dany, but one that she gave often to those she was friendly with. Who was this man? 

“Of course not, and I’ll make sure it stays that way,” Arya said, and she could practically see the sly smirk across her face. Dany felt jealousy swell in her breast, unbidden.

“Good, good,” the man said. “The longer she doesn’t know, the better. Wait as long as you can before you show her. We don’t know how she’ll react.”

“She’ll kill me,” Arya said confidently and Dany rose, hoping to squash the jealousy as footsteps approached the door. It was pulled open, and she saw the man who had been speaking. His hair was black, shaggy, eyes a bright blue, and he was shaped like an ox, broad-shouldered with strong arms.

The man dropped to his knees, and Arya looked at her, shock apparent in her eyes. “Dany,” she said, voice full of confusion. “I thought you were in your meeting? I am certain that my family wouldn’t want to keep you from the information, but they often don’t waste time.”

“I was walking back to our chambers to gather my cloak,” Dany lied easily, and Arya’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t call her out on it, at the moment, and the Wolf shrugged.

“It is your Southern blood, Your Grace,” Arya said, voice teasing. “May I introduce my good friend, Gendry Waters, bastard to the Late Robert Baratheon. We traveled together in my youth, and he saved my life many times.”

“It is a pleasure to meet one who knew Arya in her youth,” Daenerys said, beckoning that the man rise. “Was she as fiery as she is now?”

“Moreover, my Queen,” Gendry said, grinning. “She disguised herself as a boy and managed to act more like a man than anyone we traveled with.” Arya and Dany exchanged a glance, and Gendry dismissed himself.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

Later that night, once the meetings were done and Dany had retired to bed, Arya crept into her chambers, and settled into the space next to her, where Dany had been waiting. Each night was spent like this, enjoying each other’s company. Tonight, however, Arya found her voice, and spoke.

“Dany,” she began, her voice low, rough. “Something has been plaguing your mind all day. I have seen it.”

“That man, Gendry,” Daenerys began, knowing that she couldn’t keep anything from her Wolf, no matter how she tried. “What is he to you?”

“I knew him in my youth,” Arya replied, staring at the ceiling. “We traveled for about a year, all over Westeros, surviving. We served in Harrenhal together, escaped together. The Red Woman stole him from me,” her voice took on a hard tone, one of past hate, past hurt, and Dany grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “She put him in a cage and she took him to the Wall. I thought he was dead. She said that she was going to sacrifice him to her god.” Arya fell silent then, gazing into the depths of Daenerys eyes. As she always did, Dany felt as though her soul were bared before her lover. It was the greatest and worst feeling in the world. “But I do not hold affection for him. I love you, and only you.”

“How did you-”

“You’re jealousy burns bright in your eyes, My Queen,” Arya said, kissing her sweetly. “I know you better than I know anyone in this world. You need not worry, my eyes are pointed only for you.”

“I love you,” Dany murmured, soothed to sleep by the assurances of Arya’s affection. “And you are sure that I have no reason to offer this Gendry to Drogon?”

“Of course not,” Arya said, her tone scolding the Queen. “He is my friend, I do not want him eaten.” Dany murmured her slight annoyance, but soon fell asleep.


	7. Of Snowstorms and Shelters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While flying over the North with her dragons, Dany gets caught in a snowstorm and takes shelter in an old fort, where she is met with unexpected company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full credit for the idea goes to Biruchi. I hope this fulfills what you wanted.

The beating of wings was the only sound that filled Dany’s ears as they soared over the lands of the North. This trip had been taken on a whim, Dany needing to get away from the droll of King’s Landing. The threat in the North had been eliminated, the Night King defeated, but Winter had still come, and Dany counted herself a fool for forgetting that. Atop Drogon, she felt the first flakes fall, and panic rose in her chest. How had she forgotten so easily?

Scanning the snowy forests below her, she spotted the signs of walls, crumbling, barely a speck at this distance, but it was the only assurance that she had at the moment. She steered Drogon down to it, followed by Viserion and Rhaegal who had joined them as the snow started. Though it was only a short time between the first flake and when they landed, the small flurry had already turned to a blizzard, blinding the Dragon Queen as she stepped towards her shelter. Once inside, shielded from the worst of the winds and snow, Daenerys shivered violently and looked around. The old fort was clearly abandoned and had not been cared for. There were many holds in the walls, where the harsh winds were allowed through, bringing snow with them. They were small, thankfully, and though numerous, did not bring too much snow with them, a relief to the Queen. Her dragons were not so lucky, and she could hear them, roaring, trying to ignite fire in the snowy air. Wrapping her cloak closer around her, Daenerys sat on a log stationed in the middle of the empty room, unable to keep herself from shivering, cursing herself with every breath that puffed out in front of her eyes.

She prayed to the Gods, but she knew the Gods never listened. They never did before, why would they start? How foolish she had been! Even though she had brought rations, this blizzard would surely last longer than what she had to eat, even if she only ate one meal each day as the blizzard went on. It wasn't the time for such thoughts, but there wasn’t much else to think of. Daenerys was about to look about for a way to spark a fire, to warm herself when a throat was cleared behind her. Daenerys whirled around to see a figure in the shadows, cloak thrown up over their head. She was about to question their identity when the figure dropped to their knees.

“Queen Daenerys Targaryen,” the figure said, voice rough, but feminine nonetheless. “It is a pleasure to see you here, in the North. I fear it is not the right time for you to be here. The storm is growing stronger.” It was a jest, a jab at her foolishness, and this Northern woman obviously knew how Dany had ended up there.

“Rise,” Dany said, and the figure did as she was bid. “Seeing as you know me, I feel it is apt that I know you. Remove your hood and reveal your face.” The woman did as she was bid, pulling back the hood, and Dany was startled at the features staring back at her.

Her hair (a dark brown that could have only been a Northern trait) was pulled back into a harsh bun, with locks also freed, slowing behind the woman’s shoulders. Her eyes were a steel gray, another trait she had seen often, and her face had scars riddling it, most prominent one above her eye. The woman’s lips were pulled into a tight smirk, one that made Dany shiver, and not from the chill. 

“Arya Stark, at your service, My Queen,” the woman - Arya - swept into a deep bow, ever line of her body taught with sarcastic courtesy. “You may know my brother, Lord Jon Snow, your nephew and Commander of the Night’s Watch. You also know of my sister, the Lady Sansa Stark, who you named Warden of the North. My younger brother Brandon Stark is the Three-Eyed Raven. He helped your war party plan against the Night King. My father was Eddard Stark, who you view as a traitor to the crown, friend of the Usurper. I trust that is enough to legitimize my name.” Dany stared at Arya, unable to grasp the knowledge that had just spilled from the Stark’s lips.

“Arya Stark,” Daenerys managed to say, and the girl’s smirk grew wider as she watched her queen flounder for words. “You have not been seen in Westeros-”

“For years, this I know,” the Stark girl strode up to her Queen and sat on a log next to her, without permission. The indecency. It was as though this Lady had never learned her courtesies. She had heard Lady Sansa speak of her sister, but she had never expected the hardened woman that was sitting across from her. “I’ve been back North since Winter began. You have not been here, and Lady Sansa has not seen fit to reintroduce me back to the world. My sister is wise in these things, she thinks it best to bring me back to the world in the Spring. But that is enough about me. We will be trapped her for a short while. Why don’t we get to know each other?”

Dany didn’t know what to say. There was so much information coming from her, and yet so little. The Dragon Queen had heard the stories, the rumors of what had happened to the last Stark child. Most said she had died, but some had whispered of seeing her traveling, seen her in Braavos, in the company of the Faceless Men. “What is there to know about each other? We are destined to die here.”

Arya grinned, a predatory smile and she crept closer to Dany. “We have no fire, barely any food, there is snow for water, but we don’t know if it’s clean or not. Life is short, why would you want to waste this opportunity?” Closer and closer. “Who knows if we’ll live to see another sunrise? I’m not going to let my life fade like I did last time. Your dragons will keep us safe.” Closer, until they were nose to nose and Dany felt uncomfortable, but not enough to push the strange woman away. 

“What do you have in mind?” Dany whispered, and, instead of with words, Arya answered with a heated kiss, hard enough to bruise and enough to send Dany’s mind into a tailspin, making her forget all about the cold and all about the feel. All that mattered was the calloused hands that belonged to Arya, one in her hair and the other on her hip, holding there fast.


	8. Domestic Upsets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya comes home from working with Jaqen, angry at him for taking a life that should have been spares. When Dany presses, Arya lashes out in anger.

Arya came home with rage boiling in her stomach, and no way to let it out. She was agitated because her partner, Jaqen, had gone and left her, again, and taken it a step farther than Arya had wanted it to go. Jaqen had killed the target they were meant to interrogate. And that always messed her up, because she had made him swear, so many years ago, that they were no longer in the business of killing. Arya had washed her hands of that when she had met Daenerys. No more blood, no more deaths. He had sworn and he had broken that swear. Arya wanted to rip his throat out, but she suppressed the urge every time it reared its head. What would Daenerys say? She asked herself. It was the only way to control herself at this stage.

After struggling with the key in the lock, Arya shoved the door open with more force than was strictly necessary, banging it against the wall. She could hear Daenerys in the kitchen, bustling about as she always did. On a normal day, it would make Arya smile, but now Arya could barely keep from slamming the door back. Perhaps she did slam it, as Daenerys called out to her from where she was working. Nymeria, the husky that they had adopted once they had moved in together, came bounding up, barking at her and licking her hands. Arya gave the dog a loving pat on the head as she listened to Dany.

“Are you alright, Arya?” In the back of Arya’s mind, she could hear the concern in her voice, and she loved her girlfriend for that. Still, it didn’t quell her rage.

“I’m fan-fucking-tastic, Dany,” Arya said, dropping onto a stool seated on the other side of the counter, bag falling from her shoulder to hit the floor with a thump. Arya wasn’t concerned with it, all she was concerned with was the anger growing stronger and stronger in her stomach, heating her whole body. “How are you?” the snap of her tongue had the effect of a whip, making Dany flinch back away from her, startled. It made guilt pierce through her mind, but she pushed it away. She didn’t want to feel guilty.

“I’m doing well,” Dany said eventually, and she paused in whatever it was she was doing and slid onto the stool next to Arya. “But I can tell that you are not ‘fan-fucking-tastic’ as you put it. What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arya said, pulling away from Dany as best she could. How could she tell her girlfriend that she had done what she had vowed not to do? She had stood back and let Jaqen kill that man. 

“Arya, come on, you can tell me. Was it work again?” Arya turned her head away so Dany could not see the truth, that it was work. She didn’t want to talk about it, and on any other day she would appreciate the prying, but today, she just didn’t. “Was it Jaqen?” Too close, last straw.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” the explosion was violent, filling Arya with that familiar red mist that settled over her gaze in her youth. She as acting as though she were fifteen once more, too emotional to keep herself contained. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Could you resist from prying into very inch of my life at every time of the day? You don’t need to know everything about me? Gods, you’re just like my mother! I don’t spend my days asking what you did, I don’t pound you with questions.” The sane part of Arya recoiled from herself as Dany did, pulling back so suddenly, and that part shouted at her to get herself under control. She was wrestling with herself when Daenerys replied, with more anger in her voice than Arya had expected.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Arya,” Dany said. “Not after all that you and I have been through, not after everything that you have said to me. You think I’m prying into your life? I barely know what you and Jaqen do, you refuse to tell me and I respect that. All I asked is that you didn’t kill anyone, and not because I didn’t want to love a killer. I love you already, I asked for your sake. You were tearing yourself apart and I hated to see that. I am truly sorry if that was too much to ask, but I did it because I love you too much to see you like this all over again.” And then Dany was gone, out the door and Arya could barely react to everything that had been said. As quickly as it had flared, her rage died completely, leaving her confused and more than a tad guilty.

She stumbled over to the living room and collapsed on the couch, where Nymeria came trotting up to her. Arya absently rubbed the dog on the head as she stared up at the ceiling. “I fucked up Nymeria,” she admitted and the dog merely licked her hand, as though she was able to sense that Arya was distressed. “I royally fucked up. I don’t think Daenerys will be back for a while. If she ever comes back.” With that out in the open air, Dany’s words came back to her, and she drew her hands down on her face. Yeah, she was doomed.

Nymeria laid down next to the couch, where Arya had stretched herself out, and though the dog fell asleep, Arya was awake late into the night, waiting for the catch of the doorknob in the faint hopes that Daenerys was coming back. Sunset came and went, and the clock was approaching midnight when the faint sound of the doorknob turning reached her ears. She shot up, waking Nymeria in the process and Dany came back into the room. Arya nearly fell off the couch in her haste to get over to her girlfriend, words already flowing from her mouth.

“Daenerys, I’m so so sorry, I don’t even know what came over me and I couldn’t hold it back and-” When she reached Dany, her girlfriend grabbed her about the shoulders and pulled her into a hug, one that cut off any words she might have said. Arya froze for a few seconds before snaking her arms around Daenerys’s waste, holding fast. Arya’s head found a place against Dany’s neck. Dany didn’t release her, not for a long while, and when she did, there were tears streaming down both of their faces.

“Dany, I really am very sorry for what I said. I know that I shouldn’t have said it, but I was angry because Jaqen went against what we were supposed to do. He killed someone and I couldn’t stop him and I’m sorry because I broke my promise to you-” Dany pulled her into a kiss to soothe her and Arya tried to communicate every apology, every ounce of love into the brief kiss.

“Arya, it’s okay,” Dany said when she pulled back, brushing the tears from Arya’s cheeks. “You are not Jaqen, you did not break your promise to me, and I was foolish myself for leaving without bothering to speak to you about it. What I said was cruel, as I know that you are trying so hard to change yourself.”

“I love you,” Arya said, cursing herself for how broken she sounded, but Dany smiled at her, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“I love you too.”


	9. Dragon's Hate to Share (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuiation of 'Dragon's Hate to Share'
> 
> Daenerys is still wondering what Arya and her old friend Gendry have been meeting about so often for. Just as Daenerys is at her wits end, Arya finally allows her in on the secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I left the story without answering the main conflict. Oops. So, here's a second part to wrap up the actual plot line.

Even if Arya had assured her that Gendry was nothing more than a friend, their meetings continued, even though the battle with the Night King was drawing closer. Daenerys had never considered herself a jealous person, but being with Arya had changed her, and perhaps not for the better. Try as she might, Dany could not seem to get the overheard conversation out of her head. War meetings and feasts and late nights could not erase the mystery, the question, eating at her mind with each waking moment, and occasionally in her sleep. She pretended everything was normal, but kept a close eye upon her consort as she came and went. 

She trained the soldiers each and every day, but she would slip away at times, to meet with Gendry, Dany supposed. It made that jealousy burn bright within her, and she struggled to keep the Dragon down. She had to trust Arya, she had to. It was the only thing she could do. 

But...here she was, a week later, lying in bed while the winds whistled outside the walls of Winterfell. Arya was absent from their bed, but she was with the wildlings, drinking with them and sparring with them. Dany’s feet were tangled up in the sheets, eyes staring up at the ceiling, tracing the lines over and over with her eyes, hoping that it would give her answers. What were she and Gendry plotting? Could she actually trust her consort? What was she asking herself, of course she could! Arya loved her deeply and truly, and she loved Arya just as much. That was all there was too it….right? Doubt could not help but creep into her mind at every available moment. 

The door creaked as it opened, and there was Arya, looking nearly dead on her feet. Dany knew that there would be no opportunity to question her lover. Arya stumbled over to their bed, stripping out of layers of armor and furs until she was in her small clothes and she was falling into bed and onto Dany, crushing her under the weight of her muscle. The Wolf cuddled up to her, curling into her chest and Dany let herself fall asleep, even as she was being covered by her tiny lover.

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

When Dany awoke, Arya was still atop her, eye flickering as she dozed in the light of the morning sun. Taking a strand of the brown hair between her fingers, Dany played with it until Arya stirred, much later by Dany’s count. The woman she loved blinked open steely eyes, fuzzy with sleep. Dany pressed a chaste kiss to her lips and Arya returned it sloppily, still waking. Reluctantly, the Wolf rolled off of her so that she could rise and get dressed to meet with the Stark siblings. Arya stretched herself across the bed, Dany could hear her moving, and when she turned, Arya had tucked herself on Dany’s side of the bed, face pressed into her pillow. Daenerys could never truly make sense of her consort’s actions, and the Queen dressed quickly, calling an Unsullied to her. The Wolf needed her rest, despite any insistence that may have stated otherwise. Their war meetings for the day were long as they usually, full of bickering Southern Lords and loud Wildlings, and Dany sat in the center of it, making her own plans for when she could see Arya again, when the meeting dispersed before dinner, as it always did.

Hours slid by at a groggy pace for the Queen, and her attentions wandered farther and farther as the time went on. She wondered of Arya, whether she was in the courtyard or in another secret meeting with Gendry. The very thought sent another pang of jealousy through her heart.

When it seemed as though the meeting would never end, Jon declared that there were no more matters to speak of for the day, and it took every ounce of Dany’s self control to walk from the room. She made her way back to her chambers, but found them empty. That was of no surprise, and she grabbed a thick cloak that had been gifted to her as she decided to check the courtyard. The men were there, yes, all of them sparring or attacking wooden posts, but there was no sign of her Wolf. Strange, she was almost always here at this time of the day. The men had seen no sign of her all day, and Dany’s concern grew. 

For nearly an hour Daenerys searched, no door left closed, no crevice unchecked, but she still could not find Arya. Just as she was about to give up completely, the Wolf strode into their chambers and greeted her with that signature wolf grin. Dany wanted to strangle her. Or kiss her until she couldn’t breath. Or perhaps both, she was indecisive.

“Daenerys,” Arya greeted, sweeping into a light bow, still grinning as she always did. “I trust your meeting wasn’t as much of a bore as I suspect is was? I’m sure the Dwarf would make it as entertaining as it needed to be.” Of course Arya would pick on Tyrion, as she always did. Dany knew that it wasn’t anything more than good natured bickering between them, at this point.

“It went well enough,” Dany said, rising from the bed to face Arya. “But you know of how my days are spent. Tell me of what you did today? The soldiers do not recall seeing you at all.” Arya’s eyes sharpened for a second when she said that, a flicker of some emotion flitting through them before it was gone. Dany wondered what could have caused such a strange reaction.

“Gendry and I had business to attend to,” Arya said eventually, as though she knew the reaction that Daenerys would have to that. Dany fought to keep her emotions in check, hoping that it wasn’t visible as Arya continued. “I know that you do not like how much time I have spent with him, but I commissioned him for a project. He was an apprentice to a blacksmith and knew much about the trade, and I needed something made.” It was then that Arya’s hands started to fidget, something almost unseen of from the assassin. Her eyes darted about the room and finally Arya grabbed Dany’s hand, pulling her out of the room and down the hall with a sense of urgency that made Daenerys stumble. What could her Wolf be planning? 

As they rushed through the corridors, Dany could feel the beat of Arya’s heart in her hand, and it was rushed, much like Arya was now. The gray eyes that Dany lost herself in on many occasions were darting about, nervousness aware in them. It made Dany curious as to what could cause such a reaction in her normally calm and resilient Wolf. Arya pulled her to the section of the courtyard that housed the Dragons, and Dany felt her curiosity grow even more. Arya turned to her finally and was biting her lip, a habit that the Stark had told Daenerys she had broken long ago. 

“Close your eyes, Your Grace,” Arya said, and Dany complied. She heard the movement of her lover as she darted across the area, the thump of her dragons moving. There was a brief clink of metal before she heard breath by her ear. “You can look now,” Arya’s hands were on her shoulders, placing her behind Dany as she opened her eyes.

There was Drogon, looking at her as he always did, but across his back was something of a saddle, secured about his middle, and some form of reins. Daenerys wasn’t sure how this was possible, but she could feel Arya’s heart beating faster and faster, and she turned to press a long, passionate kiss to Arya’s lips. The Wolf was startled, but melted against her, holding her tightly.

“I take it you like it then?” Arya whispered to her once Dany was done and the Dragon Queen nodded.

“I suppose Gendry isn’t as bad a man as I had originally thought,” she said, grinning. Arya pulled her in for another long kiss and it was only Drogon snorting that pulled them out of it. Arya looked embarrassed, even though no one was there to witness the exchange. Dany shook her hands and was guided towards her dragon by Arya, who began showing her how everything worked. The Wolf revealed that she had been training the dragons to get used to the saddles. Dany knew that she was foolish for doubting her consort, and said as much later that night as they lay tangled together in the sheets.

“I’m sorry for doubting you,” Daenerys murmured through the sleep closing in on her. “I should have trusted you.” Arya merely kissed her tenderly and urged her to sleep, which Daenerys did easily. In sleep, anything was possible. In sleep she soared on the backs of dragons with the only one that mattered to her.


	10. At Your Service (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence where Arya is captured during her wandering in Westeros and is taken to Meereen, forced to fight in the Pits there under the eyes of the Dragon Queen, who is taken by surprise by the strange 'boy' from Westeros.

Meereen was hot and the air was stifling, and Arya Stark was sure she was dying. It was nothing like the North with it’s wet air and sands and it’s fucking Dragon Queen. Arya had never seen her up close, had never really seen her at all, but she had heard the story. She was a murderer, even if it was of Slavers, but Arya Stark herself was a murderer. She shouldn’t judge Daenerys but… the Slavers continued, even if it was illegal. They were sneakier, they had learned from their mistakes. Arya was one such product of this new Slaver. She had been taken in Westeros, grabbed and disabled before she could put up a fight. She had then been shipped across the Narrow Sea to serve the Dragon Queen. Arya took a moment to spit in the sand as she sharpened her sword. Fuck the Dragon Queen, Arya though viciously. Her fault I’m here.

“Arry, you done wi’that sword of yers?” a giant man, Bearclaw, asked from across the room. Arya, Arry as she was known, merely scowled and continued to sharpen her sword, refusing to answer. They had informed her she would be going into the Pits and she was to be ready at a moments notice. She wasn’t scared or even nervous. She was angry that she was being forced to fight like a dog for the entertainment of the Dragon. It felt too much like Cersei was forcing her into something. Arya made her decision then. She would win, but not for the Queen. The Queen could die for all she cared. Arya wished she could be the one to ram the sword into her heart.

“You, boy!” A rough hand grabbed Arya’s shoulder and pulled her from her seat. “Get out in the Pits.” She was shoved and stumbled through the opening out into open sun. Blinded, Arya fumbled for a few steps, unable to open her eyes until a blow caught her at the side of her head, sending her rolling across the sand. Focus, Arya growled to her body as she pulled herself to her feet, eyes open and looking for the threat. The sun was becoming bearable, and she looked at her opponent, a huge man with a giant hammer in his hand. Despite herself, Arya felt a twinge of fear, but she pushed it down. Her sword gripped firmly in her hand, Arya saw the next blow coming and dodged it, dancing around the man.

It was a quick fight, as were most of the ones containing the mystery boy ‘Arry’. Syrio had taught her well enough to fight off this inexperienced brute. No matter how scary he seemed, Arya could see through it, and managed to get him onto his back, blade pressed to his throat. Arya turned her face to The Dragon Queen, silently asking what should be done with him. The crowd fell silent to watch how their queen responded to the strange lad’s silent question.

“I could kill him, Your Grace,” Arya said, breaking her traditional vow of silence. She couldn’t hold it back anymore, there was so much animosity to be shown now. “And what would you think of that. One slice and his life is over. It’s your choice.” Meeting violet eyes, Arya could see the fabled dragonfire in them, a rage that Arya thought might be able to rival her own. The man under her sword squirmed and she pressed the blade against his throat, waiting for the answer from her Queen, one that did not come as quickly as Arya had hoped. Finally, once sweat had covered every inch of Arya’s body, and she felt about ready to pass out from heat, the Queen shook her head, forcing Arya to release her victim and stalk away in shame.

In the sweltering training room, Arya mopped the sweat from her brow with a towel handed to her by one of the workers. She felt disgusting, covered in sweat and sand and blood. Blood. The wolf in her craved it after being so close to a kill and then refused. It made her anger at the Dragon Queen grow even more.

“Fuck her,” Arya said, kicking a small rock across the room, glaring at the sand underneath her feet. “Fuck her to the hells and back.”

“I hope you aren’t speaking of someone I know,” Arya’s eyes shot up, knowing that whoever had spoken was referring to her words. When gray eyes met violet, Arya dropped to her knees before the Dragon Queen, still covered in filth. “You may rise.” Arya had to clench her fists tightly at the pretentious tone of her voice. She was a queen, she had every right to be ‘holier-than-thou’. “You fought well today, boy.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Arya said, never correcting being mistaken for a boy. It cemented the thought that she was a master of disguising herself. “I am glad that you approve.”

“I never said I approved of your methods,” the Dragon Queen’s tone turned dangerous, but Arya did not look up at her eyes. She had been taught that it was disrespectful. “You mocked me in front of my people. It was an unwise move.”

Arya shrugged. “Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn’t. I was playing the crowd, that is all. You took your own time to come the conclusion, didn’t you?” It was as though Arya’s tongue had a wish that the rest of her would die, as that dragonfire flared again in the violet eyes that had sought out Arya’s when she lifted her face to see the lines of anger marring Daenerys’s face. “If I might be pardoned, I must return to my training.” Arya began to move, but the Queen’s hand caught her bare bicep, holding her fast. Arya stopped moving to look at the reigning monarch, who was searching her face. There was nothing she would find. None ever did.

“You will wait until I dismiss you, or have you forgotten your place?” Daenerys’s voice was low and attempting to sound threatening, but Arya knew that it would only take a simple twitch of her blade to kill the Queen where she stood. “I am the Queen of this land, and of the land you come from.” Arya twitched an eyebrow, and the Queen smirked at her. “You are Westerosi, correct?” Arya nodded. “I can see it in your eyes and the way you move. You are sluggish and slow, unused to the heat.”

“Brilliantly done, Your Grace,” Arya said, still standing defiantly in front of the woman. Young this queen may have been, but stupid she wasn’t. Arya hated to admit that she found her spirit admirable, even if it had cost her a kill. “I applaud your skills.”

The Queen frowned, as though trying to figure out whether or not Arya was being sarcastic. “As you say, girl.” The smirk on her face said it all. The Queen had known, even back in the Pits. It was Arya’s closest guarded secret as it was connected to her identity. The fact that the Queen knew made her wonder how many other people had figured it out. “Missandei,” she called to a Summer Islander, a former slave if the marks about her neck were any sign. “This girl will be accompanying me back to the palace. Make sure that there is a room prepared for her and a bath drawn.” Arya refused to let herself feel shame for her appearance. It was for the Queen’s pleasure, after all. Missandei bowed and rushed off to do as was asked of her while the Queen released her arm. “I do hope you will come with me.”

“I don’t believe I have a choice,” Arya said and the Queen shot her another smirk as she began to leave the Fighting Pits. Arya squared her shoulders and followed with a growing sense of dread.


	11. Queen of Land and Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Daenerys ride on the back of dragons over the lands of the North, but there is one more thing Arya must do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this can be seen as a continuation of 'Dragons Hate to Share' but can also stand alone.

Arya pressed her face into the space between Dany’s shoulder blades, too content to look anywhere but at the love of her life. Wind brushed her face and her arms, but the Blood of the Dragon warmed her easily enough. No, it wasn’t the wind nor the height that they were currently at, but the creature on which they were riding. Daenerys had tried to warn her that Drogon was able to compete with Nymeria in terms of wildness and fierceness, and Arya had seen that power up close before, plenty of times. The black dragon had taken to her quicker than anyone had expected, not that she was complaining, and getting the chance to ride him with his mother...it was the adventure of a lifetime, though she’d already had plenty of those in her time as well. The saddle (made for them by Gendry at Arya’s request) was truly only made for one person, but both she and Dany were slight of frame and fit in it easily enough, if Arya was pressed against her. To say the least, the assassin was perfectly pleased with the idea.

Being up in the sky with Deanerys, however, was different entirely than how Arya had imagined it, and the fearless assassin was clinging to her lover like a child clung to its mother. The beating of Drogon’s wings filled the air, but that wasn’t assuring in the least. Arya had never been up here with Daenerys before and it was the nerves that filled her body and made it shake, not fear. Would Daenerys approve of how she had taught the dragon? Would Drogon listen to her request to take them to the Wolfswood? There was unfinished business there, something that she and Daenerys had to speak of, alone. 

“Arya,” Dany’s voice was raised and audible over the wind, making Arya reluctantly leave the comfortable position she had been in to hear better. “Why don’t we land there?” A slim finger was pointed at a clearing in the woods, and Arya thought that it was better than nothing. She helped Daenerys direct Drogon to where they wanted to land and didn’t let go of the Queen until Drogon touched the ground, at which point she slid from the saddle to help Dany down. “Where are we?”

“This is the Wolfswood,” Arya said by way of introduction, keeping Daenerys’s gloved hand in her own. “Listen,” she urged and Dany closed her eyes, presumably to follow her instructions. Arya listened herself and the howls of wolves rose around them, Arya’s spirit soaring with them. Dany opened her eyes and looked over at Arya, who was waiting.

“It’s wonderful,” Daenerys said, giving her that small smile, the one that was reserved just for Arya. Arya returned it with her own wolfish grin, beckoning Daenerys closer to her, which the Queen obliged to. “There must be a reason you’ve brought me here, then, beyond listening to the howls of your wolves.”

Arya swallowed. It was now or never. “Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons, I have been your consort for over two years on this day. I have given you my heart and my soul, and you have done the same in return to me. I have sworn my sword to you, protected you with every fiber of being in my body, and it has almost not been enough. Dany,” she said, her voice warmer than it had been, more informal, more like the normal Arya. “I spend every waking moment beside you as your guard and every sleeping moment as your consort. I commissioned Gendry for another gift, this one to show my love to you and tell the world that I am not ashamed of who you are and who I am and what we are together.” From the folds of her cloak, Arya drew a small golden band, one that had designs carved into it. Designs of a wolf and a dragon, running together. She offered it to Daenerys without anymore words and the Queen took the bracelet, pulling off her glove to slide it onto her wrist, where it rested as though it had always belonged there. Perhaps it always had.


	12. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya comes home after a 6 year tour in Iraq to a waiting Daenerys and Nymeria.

Nymeria tugged fiercely at her leash, trying to get onto the road, but Daenerys held her back. The restlessness waves rolling off of the dog was matched by the leaping in Dany’s chest as she herself watched the road, waiting, forever waiting. Was it today? Was she supposed to be back today or tomorrow? Was she late? Was she okay? The questions buzzed through her mind one after the other until she could feel herself panicking. Nymeria stopped tugging for a few minutes, obviously sense her distress and the husky barked, trying to attract her attention. Dany reached out her hand and rubbed the fuzzy head of her furry companion, reassured. Arya would be back fine. She was probably late, but who wasn’t these days. Arya had never been punctual before, what could change that?

Until Dany could see Arya with her own eyes, however, she was going to worry, and she was probably going to worry even when she saw Arya. It had been way too long, for both of them. Sansa had called her earlier in the day, telling her when she expected to bring Arya to their shared home, once the woman had reunited with her family. That was reasonable enough, but as the seconds ticked down, Daenerys grew more and more anxious. Finally, when it seemed as though Arya would never come, the familiar car came around the corner, and Nymeria leaped, barking wildly as Daenerys struggled to hold her back. The husky seemed far more excited to see her master than Daenerys was.

Sansa was the first out of the car, smiling at Daenerys with a certain tired look in her eyes, as well as a flicker of concern that was gone so fast Dany had to wonder if she had been imagining it. The red-haired woman rounded the car and opened the passenger side. From where she was sitting, Dany could only see scruffy brown hair, the common trait of her lover. Nymeria was barking and trying to pull out of Dany’s grip, but Daenerys waited until Arya emerged from around the door of the car and knelt down to release the dog. 

Nymeria charged, barrelling into Arya, knocking her backwards onto the driveway, barking and licking the whole time. Arya was laughing, a melodious sound that Dany had missed after 6 years of her being away. Nymeria was excited, more so than Dany had ever seen her. Once that was over with, Nymeria clambered off of Arya and Sansa helped the woman to her feet, allowing her to dust off herself while Nymeria circled before Arya finally looked at Dany.

It was as though her breath had been stolen as it had the first time they had been met. Arya gave a quirking smile and held her arms out, where Dany rushed as fast as her legs could take her. They collided, meeting for a long passionate kiss before Dany crushed Arya to her, holding her fast, just...being for a few moments. She could feel the muscles under her lover’s clothes, taught and a lot more prominent than before. The changes were clear, but she was still the same Arya, with a wolfish smile and a smear of dirt on her face and a tender side that nearly nobody got to see from her. 

“I missed you,” Daenerys murmured into her ear, making Arya hold onto her tighter, making Dany feel as though Ary was never going to let her go again. 

“I missed you too,” Arya replied, and Dany couldn’t help but grin, even through the tears that had begun to run their tracks down her cheek. Daenerys wanted to hold her forever, to never let go again in case she left once more, but Arya gently extracted herself from the hug, giving Dany a chaste kiss as leaned back, as if that could soothe her. “Let’s get inside, I’m cold.”

Arya linked their hands together as they walked up to the door, and Daenerys noticed a strangeness to her girlfriend’s gate. It was unsteady, favoring her right leg over her left, and it led Dany to wonder if she had been hurt in the battlefield. Sansa followed behind them, having taken up the leash of Nymeria, and Dany made it a point to question her about could have been wrong with Arya’s movements. Daenerys opened the door to their small home and as Arya crossed the threshold, Dany could see her eyes regain that spark that had drawn the silver-haired woman to her in the first place. 

“Welcome home,” Dany said, as though that were everything and Arya turned to her, crushing her in a hug that felt as though it were trying to make up for their years of separation. Sansa stepped past them, but Nymeria wiggled her away between the two, making the both of them laugh. “Don’t worry, Nymeria, we still love you.” Arya stooped to pet the dog on her head, earning a lick to her hand. 

Arya continued on to the living room, leaving Dany and Sansa at the entrance. Dany watched her girlfriend to see if she could identify exactly what it was that had alerted her to the way Arya was walking. It took a moment, but she noticed the jerky way she walked. Sansa looked as though she wanted to say something about it, but wouldn’t say anything. Dany hurried after Arya, with Nymeria on her heels, and when she entered the living room, Arya flopped onto the couch, just as she always did, even if the movement was a bit stiffer than usual. Dany took up the spot next to her, as she always did, and Arya turned to look at her.

“Has Sansa told you yet?” Arya asked, and Daenerys shook her head, making Arya sigh. “Damn it.” Steel gray eyes flicked to where their hands were touching, but Dany cupped her cheek, urging her to meet her eyes once more. “I don’t know how to say this,” Arya said, shaking her head at herself, looking up, seeming to want to look anywhere but Dany’s face. “Gods.” Arya drew a hand down her face. “Why is this so hard?” Without saying anything else, she reached down and rolled the pant leg up her right leg. Daenerys couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips as the plastic was revealed. Once she got to her knee, the prosthetic stopped, but even though there was skin past that point, Daenerys was still in shock. “Landmine,” Arya said to the question that hadn’t been asked. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. The doctor said I was lucky to only lose the leg. I’d be happier if I hadn’t lost anything, but that wasn’t going to happen.”

Dany met her eyes once more, seeing a haunted sadness there, and pulled the smaller woman to her, refusing to ever let her go again, duty be damned. They couldn’t have her back, not after everything Arya had given them. “Promise me you’re staying,” Dany whispered, barely able to hold back tears again. “Just promise me that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m staying now,” Arya said. “Medical discharge under honorable conditions, I can’t really do much with a leg made of plastic out in the field, can I?” A sob caught in Dany’s throat. “It’s fine, I’m fine, okay? This is supposed to be happy, and I fucked it up, didn’t I? Sorry.” Daenerys shook her head with a choked laugh, shaking her head at how ridiculous her girlfriend was. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Don’t worry, love,” Dany said, in wonder at how easily they fell into their old rapport. Nymeria came up and jumped onto the couch next to Arya, curling up and resting her head on the former soldier’s lap. “I’ve just missed this.”

“I have too.”


	13. At Your Service (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya arrives at the Great Pyramid for her audience with the Dragon Queen.

The former slave, Missandei, if Arya remembered correctly, led her to the room she was being gifted for the time being, staring at her as though she were a filthy urchin. One of the monikers was correct, at the very least, but Arya didn’t mind how awful she looked. Let the Summer Islander stare. Perhaps she would be left to bathe on her own. She also enjoyed the look of fear flickering under the disgust in Missandei’s eyes. The wolf in Arya had calmed, making her more rational and less murderous, but her escort need not know that. If her fingers twitched towards the hilt of her sword. It made Missandei jump almost every time she did so, giving Arya great pleasure. She suspected the Summer Islander wouldn’t want to stick around her while she bathed, which would give her the perfect opportunity to slip out the window and return to the Pits.

Missandei pushed open a door, presumably Arya’s new place of residence. Arya stepped into the room, and was glad that it was nothing like her room in the Red Keep, however long ago that may have been. Missandei lingered in the room, even as Arya began to investigate and, after riflying through the papers on the desk and a few other effects before she found a tub full of water. Once Arya had made this discovery, she had to wonder if Missandei would leave her to what she needed to do. Still, the Summer Islander remained.

“I will bathe now,” Arya said, hoping to alert the former slave as to what her intentions were. 

“Of course. That is what the Queen wished you would do,” Missandei said, and Arya sighed, realizing that there would be no privacy afforded to her. If that is how they wanted to play...she shrugged and began to strip from her clothes, peeling off her bloodied, sweat stained tunic, followed quickly by her trousers, which had fared no better than the top. This left her in only her smallclothes, which were gone as quickly as her previous clothes. She was covered in enough grime and sweat and dirt to keep her thoroughly shielded from the prying eyes of Missandei. 

Arya bathed quickly, scrubbing layers and layers of dirt from her skin, until it was pink and raw. It was only then that she dunked her head under the surface, raking hands through her short and shaggy hair. By the time she surfaced, she was clean enough to fit the Queen’s desires and she emerged from the bath, still unashamed of her nakedness. If Missandei was to stay, so be it. 

“Could I have a tunic and trousers, by any chance?” Arya asked, turning to face Missandei, who tossed what she requested at her. “Thank you.” Pulling on the new clothes, she noted that they felt big on her, probably made for a squire and it was the closest size they had to her. Once her clothes were secured, she grabbed the sword that she always had, and hid her daggers into the side of her pants, just in case. When she turned to Missandei once more, she did feel much better. She drew a hand through her still wet hair, waiting for her next order.

“Her Majesty is waiting,” Missandei said and Arya strode from the room, proud as her family lineage told her to be. The Great Pyramid was certainly strange, from the outside and the inside, but Arya was only concerned with finding the throne room, so she could see this Dragon Bitch and give her a piece of her mind. If it cost her life, so be it. Arya was prepared to give it up rather than let herself keep living on as she was now. Twists and turns confused Arya and got her all turned around, until Missandei informed her that the throne room was just up ahead. Arya slowed her step and lifted her head high, never afraid. There she was, upon the throne of Meereen, speaking with one of her Eunuchs. Arya had heard many stories of the Unsullied, and was her instincts to put some of those stories to the test.

“You will kneel,” the Eunuch beside the throne said, and Arya reluctantly took a knee, staring down at the ground until Missandei had announced the Queen to her, and she was bidden to rise. Arya rose and stared ahead at the Queen, face a steely mask, barely controlling her rage and the slimmer of dread worming its way into her heart. She pushed that away

“What is your name, girl,” Daenerys asked, and Arya barely had to think before she had a name on the tip of her tongue. She had many names that she used, and lies came unbidden to her before she could stop them, before she could think of who she was speaking to, who she was lying to.

“My name is Arry, Your Grace,” Arya said, adjusting her accent to be that of the page she had pretended to be back in Harrenhal. Lowborn, unworthy of the attention of a Queen. “May I ask why I was brung here, Your Grace?” The words were clunky on her tongue, but it gave her that affect of being younger.

“I ask the questions, Arry,” Daenerys replied and Arya nodded, knowing a losing battle when she saw one. “And it is another question I ask now. Who are you? The name you gave is fake, that is easily seen. You use the name of a Lowborn, but you are obviously of Noble Birth. Grey Worm, bring her closer to me.” The Eunuch obliged and grabbed Arya’s skinny bicep, dragging her closer to the throne, where the Unsullied drew their weapons to respond to the potential threat. “I give you once chance, girl, to give me your true name, or my Unsullied will kill you where you stand.”

Arya bared her teeth in a short snarl, hand flying to the hilt of Needle, who hung at her hips as it always did. Daenerys held up a hand, and the Unsullied formed a ring around her, spears pointing at a vital part of her body. It was a losing battle, she should back out and give up her name, perhaps beg for forgiveness, but she wasn’t willing to do such a thing. Her spirit was too wild. It was the blood of the wolf. She couldn’t resist bragging, however, and if it would be the last words on her tongue, it would be the first true words she had spoken in what seemed a lifetime.

“My name is Arya of House Stark, Daughter of Ned Stark and Catelyn Tully, sister to Robb Stark, the King in the North, and I bid you to kill me, Dragon Queen. I’d rather die honorably here than continue to be your slave in those godforsaken Pits.” Arya drew Needle in a flash, preparing herself to rejoin those in her family she had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably going to be a four or five shot, seeing how I've got a lot of story left. If this gets good reception, I'll probably make it a full length story.


	14. Late Night Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just an ordinary night of watching TV and eating popcorn when Arya got a text from a number that seemed vaguely familiar.

Arya was stretched across the couch, a bowl of popcorn settled across her stomach as she scrolled through her phone, some random rom com playing on the TV in the background. The Stark household was quiet, for once. Most of her family was out and about, and those who weren’t were in bed. Sansa was with Margaery and some of her other friends, presumably at a party. Jon was on a date with Ygritte, his girlfriend, but he hadn’t lived at home for years, and neither had Robb. Bran was hanging out with a few of his friends, and Rickon...Rickon was asleep upstairs with Shaggy Dog, as were her mother and father. For all intents and purposes, Arya was completely alone. She was very happily alone. She popped a kernel of popcorn into her mouth and was about to keep scrolling when her phone buzzed gently in her hand. She looked at the top of the screen to see that she had gotten a text, from an unknown, yet familiar number.

aria? can yu com pic me upp? 

Arya stared at her phone in confusion, wondering who it was that would text her in the late hours of the night to come and pick them up. Arya wracked her brain for someone who would have such atrocious spelling, but couldn’t bring up a name. She decided that she would just have to ask. She quickly typed back:

who r u?

The young woman pulled the popcorn bowl off of her chest and sat up, knowing that there was a high chance that she would have to go and pick up this mystery person. It was probably someone she knew and just hadn’t added their number to her phone yet. That seemed to happen quite a lot, and Sansa and Rickon got onto her a lot for it. While she was waiting for the reply, Arya looked down at her clothes. Baggy shirt, sweatpants. The shirt had slipped off of her shoulder, revealing the top of her sports bra, but she couldn’t care less about that. Whoever it was would have to take her as she was.

Dany. I’m John’s fri03nd.

Oh. That’s who it was. Daenerys Targaryen, the close friend of Jon that Arya had met a total of one time in the entire time that Jon had known her. How did she get Arya’s number? No matter, a friend of Jon was a friend of hers, even if it was a friend she barely knew. Once she had weaseled the address out of the obviously drunk Daenerys, Arya tucked her phone into her pocket and slid on a pair of shoes, snatching her keys off the counter. Thankfully, there was no one that she had to tell she was leaving and she was able to slip out the door to the old pickup truck that had been Jon’s car that he had then given to Arya once he had left after college. 

She navigated her way to the address, where lights were on bright, the thump of bass obvious, even through the exterior of her truck. Arya turned the vehicle off after parking it and slid from the seat of her truck. She stepped up to the door and knocked on it, wondering it would even be heard over the sound of the music. Arya’s foot tapped against the doorstep in time to the rhythm and once a few minutes had passed, she pulled out her phone to inform Daenerys that she was on the doorstep, waiting to take her home.

The door was pulled open and the drunken form of a young woman stumbled out onto the step, colliding with Arya. Arya stepped back to give her room, and by the time she had helped to right the woman the door had closed back off. Arya untangled herself from the person, reeking of alcohol, so that she could get a good look at them. Silver hair, pale skin, and unfocused violet eyes. The Stark was hit with the memory of meeting a certain Daenerys Targaryen, who resembled this woman down to the hairs on her hair. No longer aggravated, Arya helped to steady her brother’s friend, who kept trying to move forward, progress only halted by the brown haired woman.

“Hey, Daenerys, right?” Arya asked, looking her in the eyes. Daenerys nodded and looked at her, obviously trying to really get a good look of her appearance. “I’m Arya, but you probably knew that. I’m here to pick you up.” Daenerys nodded again and Arya realized that the woman was probably way too drunk to communicate. Arya sighed and looped the drunk woman’s arm about her shoulder and helped her walk to where the truck was parked.

Daenerys was much more...hands on than Arya had previously thought she would me. The hand that wasn’t currently resting on her shoulder wandered up her face and down her neck and collarbone, pausing briefly at her breasts (making Arya’s face flame brightly) before moving on. When they reached the truck, Arya’s relief was palpable as she helped Daenerys into truck, just to get away from her. It was becoming harder and harder to just see this as a friendly pick up to take home. 

“Daenerys, where do you live?” Arya asked, turning the key in the ignition. When she didn’t receive an answer, she looked over at the woman to find her passed out in the seat. Of course. Arya sighed deeply and decided to make the drive back to her house and let Daenerys sleep there until she sobered up a bit. All this for someone she barely knew. Jon owed her more than he would probably be able to pay off. 

The drive was quiet, as Daenerys wasn’t returning to the world of the living anytime soon, and Arya was focusing on the road. Once they arrived at the Stark residence, Arya didn’t bother to walk the silver haired woman, merely picking her up and carrying her inside. Arya considered one of the guest rooms, but decided that it would be a tad strange for Daenerys to wake up in such a strange place, alone. Reluctantly, Arya pushed open the door to her room and laid Daenerys on her bed before grabbing a few blankets and pillows from her closet and laying down on the floor, drifting off to sleep.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

Arya woke early the next morning, as she always did, slightly confused as to why she was sleeping on the floor rather than in her bed. She sat up and spotted the form of the woman she had pulled from a party last night and groaned, falling back.She was screwed. Totally screwed, and she didn’t want to get up and be greeted with that sight, but she needed take her morning run. Arya reluctantly pulled herself from the floor and changed quickly into shorts and a tank top, pulling her phone from the top of her dresser. Before she left, she scribbled a short note to her guest and left on the nightstand with a small glass of water and a bottle of painkillers. She’d had enough hangovers to know exactly what to expect of it.

She left and then returned within the hour, covered in sweat, leg muscles sore. The run had helped to clear her head and when she opened the door to her room, passing by her parents and younger siblings on the way up the stairs, Daenerys was up and looking ill. Arya closed the door softly.

“Hey Daenerys,” she said, hoping to catch the attention of the woman. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to die,” Daenerys said, and Arya chuckled, stepping away from the door to grab a towel to mop the sweat from her face. “You run?”

“Yeah,” Arya said. “I like to keep in shape.” There was a long silence as Arya began to dig around in her dresser for clothes to wear for the day. “So, uh, when do you want to go home?” 

“Maybe after lunch?” Daenerys asked. “I’m not feeling to good yet.”

“Of course,” Arya said, stepping into the bathroom to change, just to escape the awkward feeling of the room. Pulling a fresh shirt over her head, she steeled herself. The drunken fumbling last night was just that, fumbling. She was no interested in Arya, and Arya tried to convince herself that she wasn’t interested in Daenerys, though that failed spectacularly.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Daenerys was sitting on the side of her bed, staring at her phone, only looking up when the door to the bathroom clicked closed behind Arya. Daenerys gave her a smile, and Arya blushed, looking down at her feet. The rest of the morning passed in a blur, eating breakfast and laying around talking about random topics, eating lunch and then listening to music on the ride to Daenerys’s house, and things only ground to a stop on the doorstep.

“Thank you for picking me up last night, Arya,” Daenerys said and gave her that smile again, and Arya blushed, barely able to keep meeting those violet eyes.

“Not a problem, Daenerys,” Arya said, hoping her voice didn’t betray her. “Any friend of Jon’s is a friend of mine.” 

“Call me Dany,” she said, and Arya nodded, willing to give her that. “We should hang out sometime. You’re pretty cool.” And then Dany rocked up onto her toes and pressed a kiss to Arya’s cheek (more like the corner of her mouth) and Arya fought the urge to give in and die right there. Stiffly, she walked back to her truck, Dany’s laughter ringing in her ears. Oh yeah, she was totally screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be the next iteration of At Your Service.


	15. At Your Service (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After revealing herself as one of the lost Stark children, Arya is confronted by Daenerys as to what exactly has been going on in Meereen.

No one moved after Arya’s revelation. No one even dared to breathe as Arya waited and waited for the Unsullied to attack, but it never came. Daenerys was staring at her, violet eyes looking confused as they scanned her face, over and over again, as though she were memorizing it. The first to speak was neither the Queen nor Arya, but the Imp sitting at her right hand. As he spoke, Arya noticed him for the first time and bared her teeth in a snarl at him.

“Your Grace, this is indeed the Lost Wolf,” Tyrion said, and he met her eyes, calmly reflecting her rage back at her. The Unsullied seemed to notice that her attention had shifted from them to another target, and they tightened their circle, effectively trapping her. “She is still as wild as I seem to remember.”

“You sleep with the Dragon now, Imp?” Arya spat at him, ignoring the Unsullied. They did not seem to be affected by their argument. They were waiting for the order of their Queen. In speaking of the silver-haired beauty, her eyes were narrowed dangerously at Arya at her implication, trying to silence her. Arya, however, could not seem to hold her tongue any longer. “Or did your family finally see you for the traitor you are to their throne? Tell me, is your brother still lying with the good Queen Cersei?”

“Enough!” Daenerys shouted, and Arya shut her jaw with a snap, squaring her shoulders, Needle still in hand, as she looked at the Dragon Queen. “He is my advisor, that is all. Tyrion, if this girl is who you say she is, what should be done with her?” All eyes turned to the Imp once more, the only exception gray ones, which were still watching the Queen, waiting for her true move, for that order that would send the spear near her throat through it.

“She mentioned being your slave, if you will forgive my use of the term,” Tyrion said, but Arya’s gaze did not waver from the Queen, even as he spoke. “It appears that the Stark girl thinks that slavery is still a part of the life in Meereen.” There was a tightening in Daenerys’s jaw that Arya detected as having hit a nerve. Good, perhaps she could exploit that. An angry enemy was a foolish one, after all. The violet eyes turned back to her and Arya met them steadily, no longer quelled by the fire in them. 

“Is what he says true?” Daenerys asked, looking to her for confirmation. Arya merely nodded, contenting herself with silence for the moment. “You believe that there are still slaves in the midst of Meereen?” Another nod. “Speak, Stark, I demand it. Tell me of these so-called slaves and how they came to slip by my Unsullied unnoticed.”

“Just because collars are absent from our throats it does not mean that we are not yet still slaves. These Slavers, they make us walk like free men and women, and once we reach the Fighting Pits they seal us in our rooms until it is time to train, eat, or fight,” Arya said. “We look like your citizens, but there is always a man amongst us with the threat of pain if we do not comply.”

“Where can I find these men?” Daenerys questioned and Arya bit her tongue to keep from complying immediately. She let the question hang in the air, still engaged in the staring competition with the Queen until the monarch spoke again, this time in a language unfamiliar to Arya. The Unsullied backed away and left Arya standing in the middle of the room alone. Arya sheathed Needle, but still refused to speak. “I ask again, Stark. Where can I find these men?”

“They hide under your nose, oh Great Queen,” Arya said. “But I know not their faces. They could not risk someone being brought before you as I have.” The Queen fixed her with a glare, trying to draw out a nonexistent truth. Arya returned the glare and then fixed her glare on the Imp, truly looking at him since he had revealed his existence to her. He was uglier than she remembered, but he had never been pretty.

“Tyrion, can we trust her?” Daenerys turned to the Lannister, who was in the middle of downing another cup of wine.

“Your Grace, if it pleases you, I would request that we keep the Stark girl with us. The Starks are a noble and honorable house, but we do not know how this particular wolf will keep to her family’s traditions,” Tyrion said, and Arya felt a sense of alarm rise in the back of her mind. 

“What?” Arya asked and Daenerys spoke again to her Unsullied, in that language that Arya was cursing now, because she could not understand what was being said. Two of the eunuchs peeled away from the rest of the guard and seized her biceps, holding her in place. Arya struggled, but could move and Daenerys descended from her throne to stand in front of her, grabbing her chin to make their eyes meet. 

“They will take you back to the room Missandei showed you,” Daenerys said to her. “And you will not leave, or I will send them after you. Do you understand?”

“Fuck you,” Arya said vehemently, still trying to weasel free of the constraints. Daenerys nodded to the Unsullied and they dragged her from the throne room, spitting curses as many languages as she knew, which wasn’t many, being only one. Daenerys watched as she went, as did the Imp, and the Dragon Queen gave her a small smirk. This gave Arya the strength to twist free and draw Needle, stabbing the tiny sword into the belly of one before pulling back before the other Unsullied could hit her. The Wolf in her rose and she killed the other man cleanly, with a swipe at his neck, making him fall. Her hands were coated in blood, as they should be and she turned back to the Queen, barely breathing. “I do not need assistance to walk, Your Grace,” Arya said curtly, sheathing Needle once more.

The Queen’s eyes were burning again, and Arya smirked to herself. No Unsullied approached her, though whether from fear or from Daenerys’s refusal to give an order to them. Either way, Arya felt as though she had proved her point. “Missandei,” the former slave came forward once more and Arya had a vague curiosity as to what the Queen was doing. “Please escort the Lady Stark,” Arya bristled, “to the room that you showed to her before this lovely exchange.” It seemed as though she wouldn’t be able to kill this one, seeing as the Queen seemed close to her. And the look of terror on the handmaiden’s face was enough for Arya to keep her alive. It was too comical. “Lady Stark, I hope that you will consider joining my advisers and I for dinner this evening. Perhaps we could discuss this more.” Arya stoically refused to reply as she strode from the room, leaving Missandei to try and catch up to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the last part of this that I post here, as I'm going to develop this into a full length story. Keep an eye for that.


	16. 2 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya had been trying to sleep, but it seems that a certain neighbor decided that drunken karaoke at 2 in the morning was a good idea.

Arya rolled over in bed, shoving the pillow over her ears, hoping to block out the thumping music and off-key voice from the apartment next door.The young woman had been out working late, as usual, and she wanted to sleep before she had to get up for yet another shift at the shop, but her bloody neighbor just had to be practicing karaoke of all things, singing at the top of her lungs with a stupid pop tune playing in the background. Arya had the overwhelming urge to get up and walk over to strangle her neighbor, just to shut her up. When the noise continued for another five minutes, Arya threw off her covers with a short growl to do just that. She crossed her bedroom, heading for the front entrance to her apartment. One way or another, she was going to get the horrible noise to stop.

She opened the door to her apartment and stepped out into the hallway, eyes half closed in a tired leer as she stepped up to the door of the apartment next to hers, knocking on it. The music quieted and the horrid singing stopped and Arya felt herself calm down a bit. Perhaps she could be civil. The door opened and there, on the other side, was the most gorgeous woman Arya had ever seen. Silver hair framed her face, violet eyes that scanned over her face, trying to identify who she may have been. Arya cleared her throat and summoned her voice, raspy from drowsiness.

“Are you having fun?” came the words, completely unintentional. She had just mean to ask if she could turn the noise down. Violet eyes widened in surprise and the woman looked confused at her words. That would make two of them then.

“Uh, yes, I am,” the woman replied and Arya wanted to kick herself for starting a conversation. “What brings you here at this hour?”

‘What makes you do karaoke at this hour?” Arya snarked back and the woman’s eyes narrowed. Oops, shit, she didn’t appreciate that. “I mean, ah, could you just turn the noise level down? I’m trying to get some sleep, so, uh, yeah.” Very well spoken, Arya berated herself but managed to stop leering so harshly.

“Sure,” the woman said, and Arya stood there like a fool, staring at her. “Uh, I’m Daenerys.” This couldn’t have gotten more awkward. “And you are?”

“Arya,” the short woman replied and this Daenerys woman nodded to herself. Arya watched her carefully, noting how she seemed to be looking everywhere but at Arya herself. That was strange, but she couldn’t really object to it. They stood there for a good minute, looking at each other and then looking away, Daenerys blushing like an idiot. It was then that Arya’s nose picked up the faint smell of alcohol on the woman, something that smelled faintly of bourbon. That explained nearly all of it. “Are you drunk?”

“Perhaps,” Daenerys said. “Perhaps I crossed the threshold of tipsy a drink ago. I’m sorry about the noise, but you have to admit that early morning karaoke is the best kind of karaoke.”

Arya didn’t have to admit anything, she didn’t even agree, but she was willing to agree at this moment if it meant this tipsy beauty would stay here for just a moment longer so they could keep the conversation going. It was counter intuitive to what she had been wanting, but her desires were being twisted around the wrench that had been thrown into the midst of them. “Of course it is.” 

“You wanna try?” the smirk that had crossed the violet-eyed beauty’s face captured Arya and drew her in without her permission. With a wordless nod, Arya crossed the threshold herself and resigned herself to a sleepless night with someone who seemed to be straight out of her dreams. Daenerys beckoned her in and Arya followed like a lost puppy, taking the drink that had been pressed into her hand, taking a long swig of it, grimacing at the taste even as her brain began to pleasantly fuzz around the edges. Daenerys drew her over to the couch and turned the pop tune up once more, singing more off-key, but it was music to Arya's ears either way. That may have been the alcohol talking, but she didn't much mind that. Once the song had finished, Daenerys pulled Arya to her feet and urged her to try her hand at singing. 

"No, Daenerys, believe me, you do not want to hear that," Arya said. "I sound awful, believe me." 

"Come on Arya, there's no harm to be done. It's just you and me, and we're both probably drunk out of our minds right now." There was nothing to be said against that argument, so Arya picked her own song, veering away from the pop to head into some classic rock territory, songs her father had introduced her to. She supposed sleeping wasn't necessary when one was having this much fun.


	17. Love from Afar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys lands in Winterfell, expecting to meet the sister of Jon Snow, Sansa Stark. While she does meet the Lady of Winterfell, she is also surprised to meet a certain Lost Wolf, who had wandered her way back home. She takes a liking to this strange woman, but finds herself growing jealous of the attention she gives to Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to KuroAkaShiro_26 for the prompt. Hope you like it.

When Daenerys arrived at Winterfell, the snows had already begun to fall. She dismounted Drogon, looking to her right in time to see Rhaegal land outside the gates as the giant black beast had, and she felt a pang of grief for Viserion, her lost son. She couldn’t think of that, not now. There was much to be done, so much to be planned. There wasn’t time to grieve or be joyful that her other children had survived. She clenched her fists at her side as she stood next to her dragon as Jon rode up to where she was standing.

“Lord Snow,” Daenerys said, and he nodded to her, sweeping his hand out to the barely recovering walls of Winterfell. Daenerys had heard all of what had happened to this place, the history in the walls. She felt a pang of guilt for the destruction that her family had caused to the House that presided in this ancient castle, but she pushed it away. No time for emotions. “This was your home?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Though, I assure you, Your Grace, that it used to be much more majestic than it is currently. The wars this place has seen have broken it, but we are rebuilding as best we can.” Daenerys nodded and pulled the cloak tighter about her shoulders and stepped forward through the gate, nodding to the guards there. Snow crunched underfoot as Jon followed her, but Daenerys was too busy taking in the scenery of Winterfell. 

Jon pointed her in the direction of the castle and Daenerys moved quickly, eager to get warm once more. Missandei appeared at her side as if by magic, and Dany remembered that she had taken her closest advisor with her. Missandei looked even more uncomfortable in the cold than Daenerys was. Jon caught up to them and they entered the keep, where Daenerys had to stop and marvel at the age of the stone and the mightiness of the ancient structure. Jon, however, kept them moving, to the Great Hall, where they would meet his sister Sansa, and the Northern Lords, to inform them that he had in fact bent the knee. The oaken doors creaked as they opened, and a hush fell over the room as they entered, Jon in the lead by a few paces with Daenerys behind him.

“Jon,” a red-haired woman sitting at a table at the head of the room spoke. “It is good to see that you have returned home, with the Dragon Queen, no less.” There was a bite to the edge of her tone, one that Daenerys purposely ignored. They had every right to be hostile of her, after what her ancestors and done to their family.

“Your Grace, may I introduce Sansa Stark, my sister and Lady of Winterfell. She has been serving here in my stead,” Jon said, trying to mediate. “Sansa, this is Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, the First of her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen,Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.” He looked back to Missandei, as though asking if he had gotten all of the titles properly. He had.

“Quite the mouthful of a name, Your Grace,” Sansa said, and Daenerys felt herself bristling, trying to keep herself in check. “Jon,” she turned to her brother. “We heard that you bent the knee to her. Is this true?” 

“Yes, it is true,” Jon said and Sansa sighed heavily. “She is our best hope at this moment, Sansa. What did you expect me to do?”

“Let us save this for in private, shall we?” Sansa said. “The Lords of the North stand behind you, but they are not happy with your decision. I hope she is as worthy as you think she is.” There was an echoing ‘Aye’ from a few of the lords around them, but all fell silent soon enough. Sansa turned blue eyes back to Daenerys, who was still trying to keep the dragon in check. “Your Grace, forgive my manners. Welcome to Winterfell, such as it is. I hope to have many discussions as to how to defeat the White Walker threat.”

“Sister,” came a voice from the shadows behind the table, causing all attention turn to that area. “Let the good Queen rest before you barrage her with questions about her plans of attack. Where have your courtesies gone?” Jon saw the woman first, beyond the rest of the Lords, who obviously knew who it was.

“Who is it that speaks?” Jon demanded, and Daenerys searched the shadows until a figure stepped from them, sliding them off easily as a cloak. She saw Jon’s eyes scan the face and then light up. “Arya?” 

The woman nodded and Jon rushed to embrace her, looking more enthusiastic than Daenerys had ever seen him. The woman was tiny compared to him, she seemed tiny compared to everything, but she could see the Stark features. Brown hair, gray eyes, angular face. The name fit as well, Arya Stark, thought dead before the War of the Five Kings truly ravaged the land. She was dressed in leathers, with a small sword strapped to her hip, as well as a dagger. 

The reunion was broken by Sansa, who cleared her throat to remind them that they were among the Lords and among the Queen, and Dany felt a pang of jealousy shoot through her. Strange, she had nothing to feel jealous of. “Arya is right of course,” Sansa said once Jon had returned to his spot and this Arya had returned to her shadowy corner, blending in once more. “I apologize, you must be exhausted from your journey. Arya, show the Queen and her friend to their rooms.” 

The shadows moved once more, a petulant scowl etched across the Lost Wolf’s face as she stepped from behind the table and waved for Daenerys and Missandei to follow. It seemed that a lack of manners ran rampant in the North, but she could excuse it. These weren’t Southern born people, or those from Essos. They were a kind of their own, and Daenerys would be mistaken to lump them in with everyone else.

Daenerys quickened her pace to fall in step with Arya, looking over at the woman who was taking short but quick strides. They stood eye to eye, Daenerys herself being a bit taller perhaps. Though they were in the light of the outside, shadows clung to her, and Daenerys sensed a darkness about her that was both terrifying and enticing. And it was strange that a Westerosi maiden would carry a sword.

“You are the long lost Stark child, are you not?” Daenerys asked by way of starting a conversation. Arya nodded. “I am sure many have asked you, but where did this Stark child disappear to in the times that she was gone?”

“I traveled a bit,” the woman said, and Dany loved the gravelly tone of her voice. “Saw a lot of Westeros, and then I went to Braavos before coming back.” Daenerys had a vague idea that there was more to the story, but she didn’t need the details. 

“I lived in Braavos once,” Daenerys said. “In a house with a red door. Before the troubles started, of course. It was before the dragons, before horse lords, before dreams of conquest.” A small sigh slipped past her lips before she could stop it. “I hope you had a pleasant time there.”

“It was an experience,” Arya said, a gave her the barest hints of a smile. Daenerys felt honored to receive such a gift from such a seemingly hostile person. There was a hint of ferality in this girl, but she liked it. She was drawn to it. They stopped outside a set of doors. “Your Grace, these are to be your chambers during your stay in our home.” She looked up at Dany with that look in her eyes. “How were those for courtesies?”

“Well enough,” Daenerys said. “Missandei, you may take your leave. I wish to discuss a few matters with Lady Stark.”

“Just Arya,” the woman interrupted before the advisor could reply. Dany raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a Lady. I thought the leather and sword would be enough to dissuade that opinion.”

“Arya, then,” Daenerys said, and Missandei bowed before retreating to the chambers she had been given. “Walk with me, Stark. I wish to learn more of your family.” Immediately the woman began to backpedal, excuses flowing from her tongue readily.

“I am not the one you should be asking, Your Grace,” Arya said. “Bran or Sansa have knowledge of our bloodline that I am sure exceeds my own. I am not good for much more than fighting against threats and knocking sense into lords when it is deemed necessary.”

“I did not ask the Lady Stark or you brother, did I? I asked you, and I wish to know what you know of this place. One such as yourself knows all the nooks and crannies of this place, I would suspect,” Dany offered her a small smile, one that Arya did not return as she continued to hasily try and back out of the situation.

“Jon knows those better than I,” she said and Daenerys felt herself grow frustrated. “Or even Bran. He ran around much more than I did. He has a better feel for this castle than anyone in the whole of Winterfell, I’d stake my sword on it.” 

“Arya,” Daenerys said, using her given name to gain attention. “I wish to learn more about you. Jon spoke much of Sansa and Bran on our journey, but he did not know you were alive. I never learned of you. You are a complete mystery to me, and I would bet to most of Westeros.” The Northerner had the ability to look embarrassed. “I want to know of your time in Braavos, if you enjoyed as I did. I want to know how you evaded capture for so long.”

“It is not a story fit for Queens,” Arya said, but Daenerys looked her in the eyes, trying to seek out her soul.

“Then think of me not as a Queen, but as Daenerys, the girl who has lived through horrible things herself,” Daenerys said. “I am sure I could cope.” So Arya sat and began her story.

They spoke late into the night, when the sun had fallen and the moon had risen almost to its peak. Daenerys knew she could cope, but hearing what the Lost Wolf had gone through bred sympathy in her heart, and they parted with the assurance to speak on the morrow, for the dawn brought the duties of a Queen, ones that could not be ignored.

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

It pained her to watch Jon and Arya spar, day after day. Jealous welled in Dany’s chest at each smirk that Arya gave him, at each thrust she parried. Watching her fight was like watching a cat slide back a forth across the ground, under Jon’s sword. Jon was one of the best fighters Dany had seen, but Arya bested him almost every single day. It didn’t help that Dany was secretly rooting for the Lost Wolf everyday she came to watch them. They had not spoken since that first night, but Dany wanted to so bad that it made her bones ache. It felt as though she was being avoided. They had made a connection, a true one, but Arya wasn’t coming back. She wanted Arya to herself, but she couldn’t exactly figure out why.

The clashing of steel finished for the day and Dany swore to herself she would go and talk to the girl, even if she had to corner her. Stepping down from the platform where she had been watching, the Queen approached Arya and touched her shoulder to grab her attention. Arya turned around quickly, sword still in hand, Needle as Daenerys had been informed, and had the blade pressed to her Queen’s throat before she could think. Dany didn’t react and waited for the profuse apologies to rain down upon her.

“Daenerys,” Arya said, pulling back, sheathing her sword, head bowed before her. “Your Grace, I beg your pardon for my actions. I am very sorry for pressing a sword to your throat as though you were a thief.” Daenerys waved her concerns away and grabbed the Wolf’s gloved hand, holding it tightly.

“I know your story, Arya. you are the only one who can press a sword to my throat and have my pardon,” Daenerys said. “Now walk with me, Wolf. I have not had time to make good on my promise to you from the night earlier. We must speak more.” Arya stuttered (the only time Daenerys had heard such a thing from her) over an excuse about needing to keep training. “Arya, I want to speak with you. Please.”

“Your Grace,” Arya said, looking her in the eyes, and Daenerys found herself captured by that gaze, so old and haunted. “I fear that if I speak with you, my inhibitions might be forgotten.” 

It hit Daenerys then what was bothering her the entire time. She felt an insane attraction to the wild woman, something that she couldn’t explain. She wanted to drag this wolf to her bed and keep her there until the White Walkers left world all together. But she was a Queen, she had to be subtle. Her entire body screamed to grab the collar of that leather armor and pull those lips to hers. Arya seemed to recognize that look and her eyes went wide, wondering at the change in her Queen.

“Your inhibitions?” Daenerys questioned and Arya nodded, clearly not trusting herself to speak. Dany pulled on the hand she still had a grip on and pressed their lips together. Snow was falling all around them, and the men were staring, but Dany couldn’t care less. "Let us forget them, then."


	18. Early Morning Admissions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After one too many drunk pick-ups where Daenerys has been more than a little friendly, Arya takes the time to really talk things out with her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of Late Night Calls, but can also stand alone.

It had become a kind of routine for them. Dany would go out partying late at night, and Arya would inevitably have to pick her up, where Daenerys would be way too hands on with her and they would go back to Arya’s house to the Dragon could sleep off the alcohol she had ingested. Arya was just about sick of it. Each time she picked up Dany, she hoped that the woman would just be passed out and wouldn't grab onto any available part of Arya, but that was never to be the case. Arya was growing sick of it. She enjoyed Dany’s company, but the tension between them grew and grew each time Arya had to pick her up. The Wolf wanted to be with her with every fiber in her body, and the touches weren’t helping anything. If anything they flamed Arya’s desires, which she struggled to turn down or even off.

She had gotten another call from the wayward woman, and got in her truck, glaring at the road in front of her. This time, Arya planned to have a serious talk with Daenerys about her habits and about constantly groping her chest. Or her ass. Or...whatever. They needed to talk.

Arya arrived at the party already angry and growing angrier by the second. She just needed to get in and get out, with Daenerys in tow. Easily done in the mind, not quite so easily done in the real world. Daenerys came willingly this time (sometimes she didn’t) but she plastered herself to Arya like a second skin as she always did, face in her neck, hands resting in uncomfortable places. Arya thanked the Gods that she was no man. The only problem came when Arya was trying to get Dany into the truck. She didn’t want to let go, claiming that Arya was the ‘softest pillow’ and she wasn’t going to release her without a fight. Arya growled quietly, frustrated in more than one way as she pried the woman off of her, which was no easy task. As Arya was, Daenerys was all muscle, and that made it no easy task to life her into the seat of a truck, especially when she did not want to go. Arya won, but only because Daenerys was drunk out of her mind, and became more focused on trying to kiss Arya than staying attached to her.Arya avoided all the advances, as she did until Dany could make a pass at her when she was sober. It had yet to happen.

As per usual, Daenerys passed out in the seat as Arya drove and she carried her inside, sliding into bed next to the stupid woman, pulling her close. She didn’t reek of alcohol as she normally did, it was more of a pleasant after smell. Well, perhaps pleasant was the wrong word, but it wasn’t strong. That was nice. Daenerys was always big on cuddling, and Arya hated waking up to everything smelling of beer or whiskey. Daenerys turned and nestled herself against Arya, making those flames rear their heads once more, but Arya let herself fall asleep. It wouldn’t do Dany any good if she was sleep deprived and could help. Arya just couldn’t wait until she could chew Daenerys out for her improper behavior.This had to stop, no matter what.

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

Arya woke the next morning to kisses being placed all along her jawline and her neck, and the Wolf nearly had a heart attack. She shot up from bed, earning a gentle laugh from Daenerys, who was looking at her, clearly sober and clearly hinting at...well, anything. Arya scrambled away from her, more startled than anything else, and she toppled from the bed, hitting her head on the floor with a dull thud. The seductive look on Dany’s face morphed to one of shock and she made her way to the edge of the bed, looking down at Arya with concern glittering in her eyes.

“Arya,” she said, her voice raspy with sleep, making it all the more wonderful. “Are you okay?” The Wolf sat up, glaring at her with a venom Arya didn’t know she had in her before that moment.

“I’m fine, Daenerys,” Arya said courtly, her tongue sharp as whip, as it always was. “Now I would love it if you explained to me why you thought it best to wake me up by kissing me?!” Arya winced at her own volume. She didn’t know who was up at this hour, whatever time it was. Daenerys looked as though she had been slapped and then kicked to the curb, and Arya hated the hurt expression on her face. Perhaps her idea of scolding her had a few flaws in it.

“I just, I thought,” a pale hand raked through silver hair, violet eyes darting away from Arya’s as she got up and steadied herself. “You aren’t, I mean, we aren’t...I don’t know what to say,” hearing that admittance, Arya sat down next to Dany and pulled her into a hug, hoping to comfort her.

“I had this huge speech planned,” Arya said. “But, I can probably just sum it up in a single question: Why do you grope me when you’re drunk?” The question hung in the air for a moment before each of them flushed and looked away. Arya wanted to open her mouth and continue her question, but decided to leave it there until Dany could answer. And it was an answer that knocked her off her feet.

“Because I want to do it when I’m sober, but I won’t let myself.” Arya stared at her, gaping openly as Dany looked down at her hand folded in her lap. “I have more courage when there is alcohol fuzzing my mind. That’s no excuse, of course, and I’m stupid for thinking that it could have been one, but I’m really interested in you, Arya Stark. You’re really helpful for a hopeless drunk like me, and you tolerated all of my advances and never left, and...I can’t think of what else to say.”

They were both sober, that much was obvious. This amount of blushing wouldn’t have been achievable for both parties if they weren’t stone cold sober, and Arya was completely terrified by what may have happened next. This was a realm of unknowns, a place she had never been before in her life, and it scared her out of her wits. Dany seemed more confident than she, but even then the Targaryen was biting her lip as she tried to decide what to do next.

Arya mustered all of her courage and gave Dany a small, crooked smile before grabbing the collar of her shirt and dragging her in for a deep kiss. Sparks scattered across Arya’s vision as Daenerys continued to kiss her and shoved her back against the bed. 

“Wait,” Arya muttered, pushing against Dany’s chest, halting her progress. “You’re sober right? Like, totally sober? I don’t want to do something you might regret.”

“Oh, I could never regret anytime spent with you, drunk or no,” Dany said, and swallowed any response with another deep kiss that left Arya's head spinning. "But, for the record, yes, I'm sober."


	19. Kiss Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys is enjoying a short coffee break that is interrupted by a young woman, demanding to be kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry if this is bad. I haven't had that many good ideas recently.

Dany sat at the outdoor table of her favorite coffee shop, sipping on a cup of coffee, watching the crowds flow by. She was glad for the slight break, even if it was short and she would have to return to the office, where she would inevitably have to work until late into the night. She needed this and she was just setting the cup down when a random young woman came running up to her, stopping in front of her, puffing out breaths, doubled over.

“Hi,” the woman said. “I’m really sorry to trouble you, but my ex is coming and I really don’t want to have to deal with him right now. Would you mind if I kissed you?” Dany was surprised at how polite the request was, but it was still strange. She examined the young woman thoroughly. Cropped brown hair that was scruffy and disorderly, sticking up in multiple places. Her eyes were a startling gray and she had a few smeres of dirt across her face. Still, the woman didn’t wait for her response, checking over her shoulder before grabbing Daenerys by the collar, pulling her up out of her chair and in for a deep kiss. Daenerys was caught off guard, but quickly returned the kiss, cracking an eye open. The strange woman pulled back and looked around, sighing in relief.

“I never said yes,” Daenerys said, jerking the woman’s attention back to her. Daenerys’s lips were tingling from the kiss, but she didn’t want to admit that, aloud or to herself. “I don’t even know my name, and you just kissed me.” The strange woman looked embarrassed, face flaming, but she was still smiling.

“I’m Arya Stark,” the woman said, and Daenerys choked on a laugh. “I’m really sorry, but my ex hasn’t gotten the message. But, ah,” Arya stopped speaking for a moment, seeming to try to find words. “You’re really good at kissing. Would you like to get a pint sometime?”

Daenerys stared at her, searching her face once more, but all she could see was an eager looking young woman. She shouldn’t even consider this, they didn’t even know each other, but Dany couldn’t deny that the kiss had been good and she wanted more. Dany reached behind her, grabbing the coffee cup there, taking a long sip of the hot beverage before nodding. Arya’s eyes lit up and she looked genuinely excited at the prospect. 

“Great, that’s...great,” Arya said. “Uh, I know that this is really stupid to ask, but what’s your name?” Daenerys snorted out a short laugh before replying.

“Daenerys,” she replied. “But, I’m telling you now, you won’t get to kiss me until the third or fourth date.” The woman deflated, but seemed to recover well enough. “And I have to ask, just in case, how old are you?”

“I’m 20,” Arya said. “Do I seriously still look like a kid? I swear to the Gods.” The woman shook her head and Daenerys smiled at her. “Anyway, enough about that. What’s your number? I really do wanna get a pint.”

They exchanged phone numbers and Daenerys was shocked how the time had flown, and she needed to get back to work. Arya looked disappointed, but nodded, saying something to the tune of ‘See ya later,’ while Daenerys was left to return to work. 

Daenerys walked back to the office, hands shoved into her jacket pockets as she pondered the recent events. It seemed as though she were going on a date with someone she barely knew. Ah well, it never hurt to try, did it? She walked and walked, but a young man, broad shouldered with a mop of black hair, stopped her by grabbing her by the arm.

“Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” the man demanded, and Daenerys took a short step back, away from this crazy dude. “You were just kissing my girlfriend!” Daenerys frowned deeply at him, yanking her arm from his grip. 

“For the record, she kissed me,” Daenerys said. “And she’s not your girlfriend.” 

“And you know this how?” the man demanded.

“Because, she’s mine,” Daenerys lied, hoping she didn’t look too nervous. The man, who never gave her his name, growled and stormed off in the direction that Arya had gone. Daenerys wondered what in the name of the Gods she had even gotten herself into.


	20. Guilty Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Daenerys comes home after a long day at Uni, Arya heads out to grab food, leading to a surprising discovery.

“Arya, I’m home!” Daenerys shouted, completely exhausted. She had put up with so much in class that day and she was looking forward to eating take out with her girlfriend and curl up under blankets to cuddle and watch any random movie. The house, however, was strangely quiet, no returned shout from Arya, and it was only after a short moment that there was the sound of claws against floor, as Nymeria came dashing up to greet her. Daenerys patted her head, as she always did, and looked around, stepping from the front hall to look for Arya in the living room. Empty. Kitchen? Empty. Office? Disorganized, with the computer still on, but desolate. What the hell? She wanted that cuddle session, and it seemed like Nymeria would have to do.

There was a small noise from their shared room, and Daenerys sighed. She was probably talking with Jon about one thing or another, most likely about sports. Nymeria trotted after her as she walked to the bedroom door, knocking on it. The faint noise from inside the room ceased and Arya jerked open the door, looking slightly flustered. Dany raised an eyebrow, but let the topic fall to the wayside as she pulled Arya in for a short kiss, which her girlfriend quickly deepened until Nymeria barked, breaking them apart, both breathing heavily. Arya gave her that wolfish smile that had made Daenerys fall for the woman in the first place, and Dany grabbed her hand, playing with the bony fingers.

“How was your day love?” Arya asked, linking their fingers together before stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind her. Gray eyes searched her face, and her smile softened. “That bad, huh?” Daenerys nodded and Arya put her free hand on her cheek. “Who needs to die?”

“No one,” Daenerys said, grinning. “The prof was just being an idiot.” Arya hummed, indicating that she wasn't being believed, and Dany gave her a look. “Really. What I need right now is take out and a good cuddle.” 

“That I can do,” Arya said with a wicked grin as she dragged Daenerys to the couch, pushing her down. “Stay here while I get some food, okay?” Daenerys rolled her eyes at the ridiculous antics of her girlfriend, but nodded. Arya disappeared, leaving Dany alone with Nymeria and their ‘dragons’. Dany realized that she hadn’t yet checked up on the lizards. She got up from the couch, Nymeria at her heels as she opened the door to her and Arya’s bedroom, noticing the open laptop on the bed, with earbuds still plugged in and thrown haphazardly across the blanket. 

“She makes such a mess,” Daenerys told Nymeria fondly, who barked in reply, looking at her eagerly. The woman stooped and scratched the husky behind the ears, making her tongue loll out with a happy look in her eyes. Daenerys walked over to the bed and picked up the earbuds, pulling them from the jack, wrapping them as the sound of the video that had been playing blasted through the regular computer speakers. “Oh my Gods,” Dany said, looking at the screen, a wicked grin on her face. 

She quickly closed the laptop and set it on the dresser as she went to check up on the three lizards that the two kept, affectionately nicknamed as ‘dragons’, before returning to the couch, covering her snickers with a hand. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long for her food as Arya pushed open the door with her hip, take out bags in her hand. Dany quieted just in time for this, and there was a slam of the door.

“Nice to see you didn’t move at all,” Arya said, entering the living room, setting the bags down to peck Dany on the lips before she grabbed a few plates from the kitchen, plopping down on the couch next to Dany to enjoy their meal.

“What did you do today, Arya?” Daenerys asked and the woman stiffened as she served out curry onto their plates. The woman visibly relaxed herself and shrugged. 

“Not much,” Arya said. “Did some research for my paper and talked with my family a bit. Sansa is coming over on Saturday, by the way. She’s bringing Margaery, but they won’t stay for dinner.” Daenerys snickered again and Arya gave her a strange look.

“You sure that’s it?” Arya continued to give her that strange look while finishing serving dinner. Daenerys took a small bite and moaned in delight at the flavor. “Good Gods, I needed this. Thank you so much, Arya.” Arya grinned and ate her own food.

“Not a problem, Dany,” Arya said once they were finished, setting their plates on the coffee table, Dany curled up against Arya under a blanket. “Do you want to watch anything?” Daenerys gave her that wicked grin again and turned on the TV, bringing up a movie. “Star Wars? Seriously? You know I hate nerdy things like that. It’s Sansa’s thing.”

“Is it?” Dany asked, and started to play one of the movies, finding that had already been begun, and she certainly hadn’t started watching it. “How do you explain this then?” Daenerys looked up at Arya to see that her face was aflame with embarrassment. “You don’t have to say anything, love.” Daenerys curled up closer to Arya and the younger woman pressed a quick kiss to the top of Dany’s head as they settled in to watch their movie. Nymeria jumped onto the couch, flopping onto Dany’s legs with a short huff. Both women giggled before returning their attention to the TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, guys: My update schedule will be changing to every other day.


	21. Masked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya had never wanted to be dragged to a Halloween party, but a strange woman in a dragon mask changes her whole opinion of the event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Biruchi for the idea for this one-shot. Hope y'all enjoy.

Arya glared out at the rest of the world from behind the stupid mask she was wearing, a cup of punch firm in her grip. She couldn’t believe that Jon had made her come, under the guise of meeting someone with which to spend some ‘quality time with’. Now she was here, leaning against a wall, stupid punch in her hand, a bloody wolf mask over her face as she watched the scenes unfold before her. Arya wasn’t a dancer, nor was she someone who enjoyed being in the company of people like this. Masked parties, Halloween themed or not, were Sansa’s thing, not Arya’s, and she certainly didn’t want to meet anyone. Jon himself was out on the dance floor with his girlfriend, Ygritte, dancing to some electronic song with a beat that made a headache pound into her head in time with the thumping music. Overall, this entire experience was sucking worse than the time that Jon had dragged her to a rollerblading party. In fact, she was starting to sense a theme in where her worst memories were made. 

Arya took a small sip of her punch and grimaced. Some stupid college student had definitely spiked it, and had done it improperly. The alcohol was overpowering, and Arya quickly tossed it into a potted plant, hoping the plant wouldn’t die from the horrid substance. That’s why Arya hated college parties, and why she had made it a rule to not engage with them, not when she could avoid it. Still, she owed Jon for taking all of his jackets for her own, and she supposed that this wasn’t as bad as her mind was making it out to be. She just hated parties in general and avoided them at all costs. They were full of people who had no sense of dignity or shame, though she often did embarrassing things herself.

Perhaps she could ditch the party without Jon even knowing she had left. It wasn’t as though she were in a bawdy costume, quite the opposite. Her costume had been thrown together the night before, and was made up of a half mask in the shape of a wolf face, with a piece of fabric draped over her like a cloak, with bits of fake fur glued onto it here and there. It was awful, but she couldn’t give a single fuck about it. She didn’t want to be here.

Arya’s eyes scanned the crowd once more in a lazy fashion and they stuttered on a vision of beauty in a dragon costume, face covered by a mask, similar in fashion to Arya’s, though in the form of a dragon’s head. Along her body was a form fitting dress, one that stopped just short of her calves, flaring out at the bottom. Though Arya couldn’t see her face, she had no doubt that the woman was drop dead gorgeous, and though she had never taken much of an interest to anyone, she was much more interested in this woman than she had ever been. Unfortunately, she was engaged in conversation with another woman, this one dressed as a butterfly. Arya snorted and sought Jon out in the room, finding neither him nor Ygritte. She should have guessed as much.

The Wolf began to move across the room, hoping to find another drink that would be slightly more savory to her tastes, when the Dragon woman bumped into her, sending punch all over Arya’s clothes. In any other case, Arya would have been aggravated at the move, but since she absolutely gave no fucks about what she had on, there was little to be aggravated about. It didn’t stop the Dragon woman from gasping in surprise and grabbing a handful of napkins from her purse to mop up the mess. The only downside to this entire equation was that Arya would have to walk around smelling of booze for the rest of the night. That would make her match the rest of the party-goers.

“I am so sorry,” the Dragon woman said, looking up at her and Arya waved her hand in a dismissive way. “I’ve ruined your costume…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arya told her reassuringly. “This is my brother’s, and it’s awful, so it doesn’t matter at all.” There was a skeptical twinkle in brilliant violet eyes, but the Dragon woman said nothing more. Arya could tolerate that. “So, uh, you enjoying the party?”

Dragon scoffed and Arya grinned at that. “Of course not. My friend Missandei dragged me here to check out guys, but that was a hopeless pursuit in both of our cases.” That made Arya’s heart deflate. So she was here to check out guys, and probably wasn’t interested in women at all. Just her luck that things would go sour just after she had met the seemingly most perfect woman in the world. It made her sad to think such thoughts, and she pushed a smile onto her face.

“That sucks,” Arya said. “My brother forced me to come here by citing a favor I owed him, but immediately went somewhere to shag his girlfriend. I haven’t seen him since the beginning of this party.” That gave her the perfect opportunity to slip away if needed. “I hope you’re able to find a good guy, and your friend as well.” There, now she could subtly leave-

“Oh no, I’m not here to look at men,” Dragon scoffed once more and Arya felt herself re-inflate. Perhaps she had a chance after all. “I was just here to keep Missandei company until she inevitably went to call her ex boyfriend to apologize for being a bitch to him. Makes me glad I don’t have to worry about stuff like that.” So she was single? This moment kept getting better and better.

“So no guys then?” Dragon shook her head, a mildly disgusted look on her face. It was time to move in for the kill. “Yeah, me neither.” The look of shock was comical, and if Arya didn’t know any better she would think that the woman hadn’t seen her checking her out from across the room. “You wanna leave this dump and grab a pint?”

“I don’t know you,” the woman said, and Arya reached up to tug off her mask, but soft hands stilled her movements, resting over the callouses on her hands. The tenderness with which the Dragon was moving astounded Arya, but the woman moved her hands up to pull her own mask off. “But a pint sounds great.” 

Arya’s breath caught in her throat for a moment and nodded, pulling off her mask with a quick movement and they left the party, Arya not having a care in the world about where Jon was. He could catch his own ride home.


	22. Festivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys had dragged Arya to this stupid drinking festival for no other reason than to drink. Arya was starting to wonder whether or not she should be concerned about how much alcohol Daenerys intakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just another play with drunk!Dany. Probably just a repeat of the last one, but hope y'all enjoy anyway.

Her girlfriend was currently dancing across the top of a table, and Arya wanted to grab her by the throat and strangle her. Daenerys was going back and forth across the table, swaying as she walked, dancing to the rhythm of a song different than the one that was making the rest of the world vibrate. The Dragon was drunk out of her mind, something that Arya had seen often enough, but she was sick of the looks the men and women at the festival were giving her girlfriend. The Northern woman resisted the urge to grab Dany by her arm and tug her away from all of this, back to their hotel to sleep off the copious amounts of alcohol that had been consumed by the silver-haired woman. Those violet eyes were unfocused once more, and Arya had to wonder if something was wrong with her girlfriend. If it were anyone else, Arya would say that Daenerys was an alcoholic, but these nights happened much less once Arya had put some house rules into effect.

“Hey, gorgeous!” One of the men catcalled to Daenerys and Arya’s eyes sought him out. He was a younger looking man, hair a light blonde, so someone from the South. The Wolf rose from her seat and crept up behind him while her girlfriend ignored the comment all together. Arya tapped the man on the shoulder and, when he turned, threw a punch to his face, putting all of her strength behind the blow. The blow startled him, and Arya sent another, then another, his way. When his friends had finally pulled her off of him, he was knocked out in his chair, and she walked back to where she had been standing, just in time to catch the falling Daenerys as she drunkenly stumbled off of the table and right into Arya’s arms.

“You need to stop doing this,” Arya scolded gently, helping Dany to her feet as she swayed. “I know that you enjoy getting drunk, but this is going a little too far, don’t you think?” Dany said nothing, and Arya sighed heavily, taking nearly all of the weight of her drunkard girlfriend so they could go back home. Daenerys tried speaking multiple times as Arya pulled open the door to her truck, setting Dany gently into the front seat, having done so many times already. Daenerys groaned and reached her arm out, grabbing Arya’s wrist. The younger woman sighed deeply and carefully withdrew her arm from the grip.

They were well on their way to the hotel when Daenerys reached over and grabbed Arya’s free hand, patting it with that kind of drunken tenderness that Arya had grown accustomed to when it came to Daenerys. Arya was focusing on the road, not on her girlfriend, and barely reacted when Daenerys drew the hand to her and kissed it. This continued all the way to the hotel, with Daenerys dropping sloppy kisses along her hand and wrist. Arya fought to keep her eyes on the road and pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, retrieving her hand and opening the door to carry Daenerys back up to the room.

Once they had collapsed onto the bed together, Daenerys curled into her once more, holding onto her tightly. Arya decided that, once the morning came, she would speak with her girlfriend about her unhealthy habit. For now, though, Arya was content to draw the woman closer, drape the covers over them, and fall into sleep.

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

Arya cracked an eye open in the morning, the smell of coffee and bacon hitting her nose, waking her taste buds before it woke anything else. Arya groaned and sat up, arms sore, making her wonder what she had done...oh, she had carried Daenerys around. That would explain much of the pain, but her knuckles throbbed. She vaguely remembered beating the living hell out of some dude at the festival, but she pushed the thought away fro the bigger question of why Daenerys was up and about already.

Arya rose from bed and walked over to Daenerys, greeting her with a short kiss as she looked over her girlfriend's shoulder to see her cooking a small breakfast of eggs and bacon, sizzling in the skillet. The smell was one of the best things Arya’s had ever smelled. Daenerys smiled that beautiful smile at her, and Arya wondered what had happened to the hangover.

“Good morning, Arya,” the beauty said, and pulled the skillet off of the burner. “How are you?”

“I should be asking you that,” Arya retorted, grabbing two plates and setting them on the counter, letting Dany serve up their breakfast. “I thought you would be throwing up in the bathroom still. You sure you’re okay?” Dany nodded and they sat down to eat, no explanation. Arya shrugged and sat down at the small bar attached to the kitchenette, across from Dany, who was leaning against the counter, eating, staring at her with those purple eyes that made Arya’s hard walls fall away.

“What do you want to do today?” Daenerys asked eventually, and Arya shrugged. They were in the Reach for only a little longer, visiting Sansa and Margaery and going to this drinking festival...of course the latter had been Dany’s idea, but Sansa had been nagging both of them about visiting. But, the festival was over, and Arya had seen enough of her sister and her girlfriend to last another year. They had this day before they would have to leave to head back North, but there was nothing left for them to do. 

Arya gave Dany a wicked grin and got up from her place, sauntering over to Daenerys, grabbing her plate and setting it aside. She drew her girlfriend in for an eager kiss, that lasted so much longer than it should have. When they drew apart once more, Arya pressed their foreheads together.

“I’d like it very much if the only thing we did today was be together, without alcohol or annoying sisters taking up our time,” she whispered, and Daenerys hummed in agreement, pulling her in for another kiss.


	23. Date Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys, though nervous and slightly apprehensive, finally goes on that date with the elusive girl who had kissed her in the middle of the street.

Daenerys fidgeted as she stood outside the door of the diner, waiting, quite impatiently, for Arya to show up. She looked over her shoulder as a car drove by, but it didn’t stop, leaving her in the light of the vibrant sign, waiting for her date. She hadn’t spoken much with the strange woman who had come up and kissed her in the middle of the street, under the pretense of her jealous ex being nearby, unable to get the hint she had moved on. The kiss had felt like heaven, and both women had decided that perhaps this wasn’t so bad an arrangement, and they had agreed to meet up at a local diner to have dinner and get to know each other better.

But now Dany was standing outside the diner, a light summer breeze brushing across her bare shoulders, as she jumped at every noise, thinking that it was Arya approaching, until she was sure that her nerves would drive her completely over the edge of sanity. Finally, there was the soft noise of a throat being cleared, and Daenerys turned to see the shaggy-haired young woman standing there, giving her that clever little smirk that seemed to only be produced by Arya. The slightly taller woman leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Dany’s cheek by way of greeting, and her knees felt weak. It was going to be a long evening if she had this to contend with. 

“Good evening, Daenerys,” Arya said in her rumbly Northern voice. “You clean up quite nice.” There was that cheeky attitude that had driven Daenerys to do this in the first place. She was suddenly reminded as to why she had agreed to date a random person that had kissed her in the middle of the street. Kissed her passionately, if she wanted to be specific, and a part of her certainly wanted to be. Even thinking about it made her lips tingle faintly, as though the memory were implanted into her nerve endings. Arya extended an arm to her, ever the genial woman, and Daenerys took it with a smile. 

“Good evening, Arya,” Dany replied, and lead her into the diner, where they took a seat, across from each other, staring at each other like lovesick puppies. Dany, at least, supposed that’s what she looked like, and Arya couldn’t have looked any more like a puppy if she tried. They fell into conversation, trading stories and favorites, things to get to know each other better. It was hard for Daenerys to believe that they didn’t even know each other. The conversation became stilted, however, once Daenerys asked: “Did your ex ever meet back up with you? He seemed pretty angry when he stormed off.”

“Oh, you mean Gendry?” Arya asked, shrugging. “Yeah, but I told him to fuck off and that I found a better option that would trump him any day. He just scoffed and left, without another word.” Her expression dropped for a moment, making her look slightly more vulnerable than she had been in front of her. “I’d really hoped we could stay friends after we broke up, you know? He was a really close friend of mine when I was younger, we practically grew up together, but I think I broke his heart. Which sucks, because we were so close.” Daenerys was about to respond but Arya excused herself to go to the bathroom, leaving Daenerys alone at her table, wondering why it was that she questioned her about it. And everything had been going so well, but Dany had to go and muck it up, just as she always did.

“Hey, Dany,” Missandei came sauntering up to her, a tray of food in her hand. Dany gave her a small smile, having momentarily forgotten that Missandei worked at this very diner, and that was the reason she had come in the first place. “Was that the girl who snogged you in the street without asking?” Daenerys looked around before nodding, face flaming. Leave it to Missandei to tease her about such a random encounter, though Dany hadn’t been able to stop talking about it after the initial event “So...how’s the date going? Another kiss in your future?” Missandei wiggled her eyebrows, but Daenerys barely reacted.

“She just left for the bathroom,” Dany said, fighting to keep the disappointment from her voice. Missandei patted her on the shoulder. “Her ex, she said that they used to be friends, but she says she broke his heart. I don’t know what to do, Missandei. I think I want to keep dating her, but-” Missandei clucked her tongue, making her halt. That was what made Dany grateful for her friend: the mother hen quality to her.

“Just eat dinner with her,” Missandei advised. “You’re getting to know her. Snogged you she may have, but she has yet to impress herself upon you. Don’t worry about her ex yet. Burn that bridge when you get to it, love.”

“Don’t you mean ‘cross-” Daenerys began, but Missandei had already left, revealing Arya, who was walking back, looking much better than she had when she had left. The woman slid into the seat and offered her a grin as she began to eat. They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being their eating until Arya spoke up, around a mouthful of food. Dany shouldn’t have expected anything more of her.

“Sorry for bailing on you there,” Arya said, pausing to swallow. “It’s rough, thinking about it, but I really don’t want that to affect this.” The Northerner waved a hand between them in a very vague gesture. “See, you’re really cool, and I think I might be lucky enough to score another date?” There was a hopeful glint to her eyes, and Daenerys returned her smile, taking a bite of her chips before she spoke. 

“I think that just might be possible,” Daenerys said, and a huge grin broke out on Arya’s face, bigger than any Daenerys had seen before it, one that she couldn’t help return. They quickly fell back into easy chatter as they ate their food, and Daenerys wondered what had worried her so much.


	24. I Know It Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya hated this day above all else, but perhaps Daenerys could show her a way to appreciate even the worst things in her life.

It started off with a small knock on the door of her bedroom. Arya hadn’t left bed all day, but she could feel the sunlight streaming in through the window, indicating that it was late in the morning, much too late to still be asleep. Arya wasn’t asleep, not in the least. She had been awake since the sun had come up, laying atop her covers, back turned towards the window and any other source of light that may have been coming through the room. Still, the sudden noise made her jump, startling her from the dead stare that she had been set in for the past few hours. The Wolf turned her head to look at the piece of wood for a short moment before settling back into her regular position. The young woman had no desire to see anyone that day, no matter who it had been.

The person at her door, however, had apparently never gotten the memo as to her condition, and knocked again, louder, but Arya ignored it still. She could not deal with people, not when the hole in her heart had opened up once more, as it always did on that day, and it took a third knock and the voice from beyond the door to get her to move a muscle from where she was. This was only because the person on the other side of the door was Daenerys, and Arya knew that she would never leave until Arya had answered the door. Arya groaned quietly and slid from bed, stumbling over to the door on weak knees, opening the door to her bedroom.

Daenerys looked a goddess, making Arya even more self-conscious than she already normally was around her girlfriend, with her smiles and her glittering violet eyes, so alive. The look faded, however, as soon as Daenerys’s eyes skated across Arya’s face. The Wolf couldn’t even bring herself to attempt a smile. It was too much, it was always too much on this day. Daenerys pulled her in for a long hug, and Arya melted into the embrace, unable to think beyond the feel of Dany’s arms about her waist. It was the first feeling that she’d had the whole day, and her girlfriend seemed to know this as she didn’t give up on the embrace until Arya had started to pull away, but their fingers were linked even once this was done. 

“What’s up?” Daenerys asked, her voice soothing the raw emotions that had suddenly flared in Arya’s chest. The younger woman said nothing, but squeezed Dany’s fingers, looking past her at the wall, and she knew that the distant look had settled across her face once more. They stood there for a while, Dany watching Arya and Arya watching the wall, until finally Daenerys grabbed her shoulder and shook gently, repeating her name until Arya turned to look at her once more. “Are you hungry?” A shake of Arya’s head. “Tired?” Another shake. “Can you talk to me?” Another shake. Daenerys sighed, and dropped Arya’s hand. Arya jerked out of her funk with that loss, and flung herself at Daenerys again, for another hug. Dany, though startled, caught her and whispered soothing words to Arya as the younger woman nearly went into a panic, holding onto Daenerys as though she were a lifeline.

“Daenerys,” Arya said later, once the almost-panic attack had passed and they had settled on the couch in the middle of Arya’s meager apartment, Arya tucked under Dany’s arm, curled up to her side, finding comfort there, safety. She knew she looked like absolute shit. She hadn’t taken a shower that morning, nor had she even brushed her hair. She had changed from her regular pajamas to a pair of sweatpants and a tank top with a sports bra, but it wasn’t anything that looked ‘good’ on her, but she knew Daenerys didn’t care. “Thank you.” The words were hard to force past her lips, but she had to say it. She owed so much to Daenerys. 

“I would do it for you always,” Daenerys replied, and Arya tightened her grip on Dany’s shirt, holding on, never planning to let go. In a lower voice, Daenerys added. “I wish that you would tell me what was wrong, but I understand that whatever it is must be hard for you. Tell me if you wish to tell me of it, but I will not push you.” Arya pushed back the urge to spill her guts, bare her soul, right then and there, but she didn’t want to put her burden upon Daenerys. 

What had she ever done to deserve Daenerys? She was such a fucked up person, she didn’t think that she was owed anything like the woman that had been shoved into her life so suddenly, and so wonderfully. “This is…” Arya began, trying to keep her emotions under control, they always needed to be under control. “...the day that my father, he was shot. It was while I was in King’s Landing with him, he was killed by a gang there, I was…” Arya broke off for a moment, drawing a deep breath, and Daenerys, with concern in her eyes, gently rubbed circles into her back, soothing her. “I was at his side, while he was bleeding out. I watched him die, right in front of me, and that...I can’t take this day, Dany, I just can’t. I don’t want to move, I don’t want to breathe. Sometimes, I don’t even want to keep living. It’s not right that he died there and I got to live through it.” It took so much to keep from crying, but Daenerys’s hand tightened in the fabric of her shirt.

“Don’t you ever say that,” Dany said, her voice low, but thick with emotion. “Don’t you ever fucking say that, Arya Stark. You got to live, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not your fault that your father died, no, don’t give me that look. It isn’t,” Arya looked back down sullenly, though she felt a tad bit better. “You couldn’t have stopped it, no one could have. I’m not saying you should forget it, you should live your life to make him proud.”

“Would he?” Arya asked, her voice small, and she cursed herself for it. The last person she wanted to be weak in front of was Daenerys, but somehow the other woman ended up being the stronger one of their relationship. “How could he be proud of me, I’m a failure and I’m-”

“So much stronger than you think you are,” Dany said gently, as though she had realized her previous tone had startled Arya more than she had tried to let on. “He would be so proud of you, Arya. Believe me when I say that, please.” Arya nodded and Daenerys pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Arya could feel the affection in the gesture, and decided that she would no longer spend this day grieving over what she had lost. She would spend it living her life, as her father would have wanted her to. 

“I love you,” Arya said quietly and she could feel Dany smile against her head. Arya angled her head up to kiss Dany’s lips. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too,” Dany replied, pressing another swift kiss against Arya’s lips, silencing whatever she would say next.


	25. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theirs was a forbidden love, their families at war. Arya Stark and Daenerys Targaryen, however, couldn't couldn't care less.

Arya’s body pressed against Daenerys’s as their mouths met again and again, passion bleeding through every single movement between them. It was wrong, they both knew it. Arya had been forbidden over and over again to meet with her girlfriend. With their families were practically at war, the two were the definition of a forbidden romance, but Arya couldn’t help herself. The Targaryen girl was intoxicating, the secrecy, the danger of it all giving her a heady rush that filled her whole body with energy, humming gently underneath the surface. Daenerys was equally forbidden to see Arya, but the Starks were even more strict than the Targaryens in that regard. Should Arya even look at Daenerys in her family’s presence, she would be scolded for consorting with the enemy. Oh, the irony. Dany pulled her back from her musings with a particularly bruising kiss that left Arya’s head reeling.

“Gods,” Arya said, pulling back and away, flopping onto the bed, next to Daenerys, breath tearing from her lungs as she looked over at the similarly winded girl next to her. “Our parents would kill us if they found out.” The utterance was met with a wicked grin from Daenerys, who had recovered quickest of the two of them (as she often did) and the older girl’s fingers began to play at the edges of her sleeves, as though she were trying to appear nervous. Arya, however, was not to be fooled.

The thing was...for however rebellious the both of them were, neither had ever thought to breach the topic of being completely together romantically. A voice, that sounded strangely like her siblings, screamed the word sex at Arya, but she pushed the thought away. She and Dany had both agreed that once they had brought up the topic of their relationship to their family that they would consider having sex, but it wasn’t something either wanted to pursue. Or so Arya thought.

She was starting to doubt now, with the look that Daenerys was giving her, and she wondered how bad it would be to break down all of the barriers they had set up, in case of discovery. Arya heaved out another breath, returning to her body suddenly as Daenerys crashed their lips together once more, all lips and tongue and bliss. Unfortunately, Arya would never get the chance to truly explore anything with Dany in that time, as the moment Daenerys had tangled their limbs together and the kisses were getting more and more heated, the door to Arya’s room banged open and there was a shout of anger and a shriek of surprise, each from a different source. Arya couldn’t hear any noise coming from her throat as Daenerys quickly rolled off the edge of Arya’s bed, landing on the floor, nearly pulling Arya with her, though the younger of the two managed to stay upright.

Ned stood on the doorway, and Arya didn’t think she had seen her father any angrier than he was in that moment. Her heart leaped into her chest and pumped in her ears, the only noise that she could hear, even though she saw Ned’s lips moving. With reflexes like a cat, Arya jumped off the edge of the bed where Dany had disappeared, landing atop her girlfriend, both crashing in a tangle of limbs. The noise of the situation came rushing back into Arya’s ears, Ned’s shouts for Daenerys to ‘Get the fuck out of his house’ and Catelyn’s confused words of ‘Arya, what are you doing?’ and even Daenerys whispering apologies so softly into her ear.

“Everyone shut up!” Arya shouted, and the noise halted, words cut off before sentences could even finish. All eyes were on Arya, Stark grey, Tully blue, and Targaryen violet, and Arya stumbled to her feet, pulling Daenerys with her. “Mom, Dad, get out.” 

“Arya,” Catelyn said, the first to try and sway Arya to her side. She seemed to recover from the shock much better than Ned, who just stood their, mouth open, like a fish out of water. “Honey, please tell us, what is this?” Arya felt herself bristle at the insinuation, and Dany’s hand tightened around her arm, though whether to calm Arya or hold herself back, Arya didn’t know. 

“What it looks like,” Arya snarked back, tongue sharp as a whip, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Her father’s jaw clenched, Arya could see it, but she didn’t make any comment to it. Her hands tightened into fists as she continued. “I know that you hate the Targaryens and that they hate you, but that’s between you and Daenerys’s father, not me and Daenerys. So I’m telling you again, get out. I won’t repeat myself a third time.” Arya was startled to hear a deathly chill come into her voice. Judging by the looks on everyone's faces, they hadn’t expected it either, and Daenerys sent her a small look of concern. Arya’s father, however, found his voice once more.

“Arya Stark,” he said firmly, and the part of her that respected him and looked up to him winced at his tone, knowing she had totally fucked up, but couldn’t bring herself to care all that much. It didn’t matter if he was mad. She had Dany, she always had Dany. That was all she could truly rely on. “You are not to speak to me or your mother that way, especially if you plan to live under our roof. Furthermore, you are-”

“Consorting with the enemy?” Arya snarked before she could stop herself, but a withering look from both her father and mother stopped anymore words that could come out, and she mumbled a sullen apology, pulling Daenerys closer to her, shooting a glare at both of her parents, daring them to stop her. Neither did, but the icy rage in her father’s eyes cooled even further. Arya didn’t know how much colder it could get.

“Yes, in fact,” Ned said. “What in the Old Gods possessed you to do such a foolish thing?” Arya felt a snarl rise in her throat, and Daenerys squeezed her arm once more, a constant reminder that she was there, and it wasn’t the time. It was never the right time. “This is my house, and that girl is not allowed. Either she leaves or you both leave, and you can pack your bags. I will not have you living in my house.” The statement floored Arya, knocking the ground out from under feet. Her vision spun and she felt faint, the only thing grounding her being Daenerys’s grip on her arm, holding her there as the world fell to pieces around her. 

The door slammed and it brought Arya back, and she vaguely registered the tears that were pouring down her face and Dany’s concerned words flowing into one ear and out the other. As the young woman spoke, Arya slowly began to pack her bags, shoving clothes into bags, wiping the tears from her eyes as she moved almost robotically until Dany’s hand still her movements, pulling her out of the path between her suitcase and closet.

“Don’t do this, Arya,” Daenerys said, forcing Arya to meet her gaze, concerned, but determined. “Please, you can’t give up your family for me.” Arya wanted to fight against that idea, wanting to fight as hard as she could to keep Daenerys at her side. “I’m not worth that much.”

“Yes you are, Dany,” Arya said. “You are to me, and if they can’t accept that...fuck them, then! I won’t leave you, Daenerys. We started this knowing what would happen if we got caught, and I swore that I wouldn’t leave you, no matter what. We can get an apartment together, we’re both working and you’re in college. We can work this out, but I don’t want to have you out of my life. I lived so much of my life hating you, but I want to make up for that right now.”

“We’ll make a plan then, but we’ll take time to think it out. We both know that neither of us can make good decisions in this state. Stay here, try to mend your relationship with your parents.” Arya scoffed at this, but Daenerys gave her a stern look. “I’m serious. You’re lucky to have a family that loves you as much as they do. You may not think you need them now, but you will someday. If you won’t do it for them, or for yourself, do it for me, okay?” Arya mumbled her agreement and Daenerys kissed her gently on the cheek. “I love you, and I’ll text you soon.”

“Okay,” Arya said sadly, watching Daenerys leave the room before unpacking her bag, glaring at the clothes as she tossed them back into her closet, not even bothering to hang them back up. Just as she was sliding the suitcase back into her closet, there was a knock on her door. Reluctantly, Arya walked over to the door and pulled it open before slamming it again before her mother could even say another word. She didn’t want to deal with that shit, not so soon. The door creaked as it was opened again and Arya growled aloud, closing the door to her closet without looking over at her mother, whose gaze was burning into the back of her head. “What?” Arya asked coldly, and she could practically hear her mother flinch at her tone. She couldn’t bring herself to care at all.

“Arya, dear, your father, he didn’t mean what he sa-”

“It seemed like he meant it, mother,” Arya said, turning to face the older woman, shoulders straight and in a powerful posture. She didn’t care, she didn’t care, she didn’t care. Though it was her mother, she had already made her opinion very clear. “Daenerys managed to convince me to stay, but I’m only doing it for her.”

“Why, Arya?” Her mother blurted out, and pressed a hand to mouth, as though she hadn’t meant to say it. She probably hadn’t, but Arya was concerned about that. The daughter took a deep calming breath, thinking of what Daenerys would say to her to calm her.

“Because I love her,” Arya said simply. “She’s brilliant and she funny and she’s so compassionate that it hurts. I never cared about her lineage, it didn’t matter to me. Her family may have done shitty things to ours,” her mother gasped at the word, but she ignored it completely. “But Dany isn’t defined by her family, and neither am I. And I’m really sorry that you and Dad can’t see past her hair and her eyes to the person that she is. She’s made me happier than I’ve been in a long time. If you can’t accept that, it’s your fault, not mine.” Arya took a deep breath after words, her chest a bit lighter from the admission. Catelyn was staring at her wide-eyed, and Arya knew that she had dumped all of this information upon her mother, but she still couldn’t bring herself to care as much as she should.

“Arya…” her mother trailed off for a brief moment, and Arya couldn’t respond. “Your father and I...we love you, even if we don’t show it. You know how our family is, always caught up in traditions and old grudges. If she truly makes you happy I’ll try to talk to your father about letting her come over once more, just to get to know her.” Arya felt hope rise in her chest. Her mother left without another word, and Arya collapsed against her wall, glad that she didn’t have classes at all that day. 

The young woman grabbed her phone and dialed Daenerys, eager to tell her the good news. They just might have had a chance, if they could make a good impression. She also vowed to tell Daenerys as soon as she picked up that she loved her. Admitting it aloud made her realize how true it was. Now all she had to do was say it.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before Daenerys picked up and Arya spoke before Daenerys could say a single thing.

“I love you.”


	26. It's Raining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya is walking home from a late night of hanging out with friends when it starts pouring. After contacting everyone she knows, a familiar woman offers her a place under her umbrella and a ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Biruchi for the idea. Hope this is good.

Arya stood under the awning of a building, jacket, shirt, and skin thoroughly soaked, leaving her shivering right in plain view. Her hair hung in wet strands, framing her face, and Arya breathed out a heavy sigh as she waited for someone, anyone to pick her up. She had sent a text to everyone she could think of, but no one had responded. She knew it had been stupid to stay out so late talking with Brienne. At least the older woman had a car, but Arya had always caught a cabbie or took the bus home. But now the bus wasn’t running this late, and she couldn’t take the tube to where she needed to do, so she had to wait to be picked up. She supposed it was just barely better than the walk of shame. 

Trembling, drenched fingers slid her phone from an equally sopping pocket to check to make sure she hadn’t missed anything before she resignedly stepped back out into the pouring rain, drawing the wet materials closer to her body in a hope to conserve warmth. As Arya trudged through the rain, shoulders hunched and hood drawn up in feeble attempts to fight back against the rain, there was the sound of footsteps from behind her, the wet noise of shoes hitting water filling her ears as someone flew past her. Arya ignored them and fiddled with her phone, fingers beginning to numb. She didn’t look up from the wet sidewalk until the torrential downpour stopped over her head. The noise continued, but she was no longer getting wet.

Confused, Arya turned her eyes upwards and saw that there was a familiar woman there, holding out an umbrella with a grin. Daenerys Targaryen, if Arya remembered correctly, was a college friend of Jon’s. She’d met the woman in passing a few times, at parties that Jon invited to her a year prior. She had never talked to Daenerys, but she knew of her, and if Jon approved of her, Arya had to. “Uh, hey,” Arya said, hoping to break the silence between them. “You out late too?”

“No, actually,” Daenerys said, stepping up under the umbrella with her. The brolly was really only meant for one person, so Arya had to be pressed right up against the slightly older woman. “Jon texted me that you needed to be picked up, so I came down to help him out. He’s with Ygritte, you know how he is.” Arya nodded, hoping the darkness of their surroundings hid her blush from the eyes of Daenerys.

“Oh, thanks,” Arya said, willing her body to calm. She was not pressed against a beautiful woman, she was not pressed against a beautiful woman. It took all of her willpower to not start babbling and make a fool of herself. Instead, she tucked herself a against Daenerys, hoping to escape the stray drops of rain that fell onto her exposed arm. “So did you drive here?”

“No, I walked,” Daenerys said, and Arya could hear the sarcasm in her voice, making her crack a grin. “Yeah, my car’s a short walk from here. You should be glad your brother pulled himself away from his girlfriend long enough to text me.” Arya cackled at that, knowing exactly how Jon was with Ygritte. “Let’s go. I’m cold.” Arya nodded in agreement, and they struggled to both stay under the umbrella while they walked back to Daenerys’s car. 

Once they had entered the car, Arya peeled the jacket from her shoulder, completely forgetting that she had a white t-shirt on underneath and it was sopping wet. She looked over at Daenerys, and noted that her gaze was fixed ahead, and her face was slightly red. Arya herself blushed as she realized that her shirt was see almost see through. 

“What are you doing out here so late anyway?” Daenerys asked, and Arya scowled, realizing that Daenerys was just going to mother her. She snorted and flicked the water from her hands.

“I was drinking with a friend,” Arya said, trying not to sound defensive. “We stayed out later than I thought, but her boyfriend took her home. I stayed behind for a few moments and it started pouring.” 

“Why didn’t your friend take you home?” Daenerys asked, pulling out from where she was parked, beginning to drive. “I mean, it doesn’t make much sense.”

“Like I said, her boyfriend came. She thought I could make it home by myself. I’m not a kid, you know,” Arya said, feeling the need to defend her friend. “I don’t know what Jon told you about me, but I’m a college student, and I’m perfectly capable of making it home by myself.”

Daenerys snorted. “You say that, and yet here you are.” Arya felt herself blush once more, but pushed it down as they pulled up to an apartment building, but not the one where Arya lived. “We’re at my place now. Sorry, but it’s too late to really take you anywhere. I hope you don’t mind.” Daenerys gave her a small smile, and Arya shrugged. She couldn’t say that she minded. She was cold and still wet, and she wanted to curl up under a warm blanket and sleep the alcohol that was buzzing through her system.

The rain kept dropping down in sheets and Daenerys grabbed her hand, pulling her through the rain under the awning of the building. Both were giggling like teenagers, Daenerys now soaked as well, and Daenerys opened the door, leading her up to the sparse apartment that she called her own.

“I have some clothes you could change into,” Daenerys said, clearly trying not to look at Arya’s shirt as she said these words, digging through her closet. She tossed Arya a dark grey shirt and Arya changed quickly, catching a brief glimpse of Daenerys’s eyes scanning her as she pulled the shirt off and then the other one back on. Surprisingly, Arya didn’t feel self-conscious and she changed her shorts out for a pair of sweatpants, immediately feeling much better. Daenerys fell back onto her bed and Arya shifted her feet awkwardly and Daenerys grabbed her hand, pulling the younger woman down next to her.

“I’m sleepy,” Arya admitted between a yawn and Daenerys laughed, sitting up to look down at Arya, who felt her face heat for the billionth time that evening. The older woman angled herself over Arya and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. The woman's lips were warm against Arya's cold ones, and Arya wrapped an arm around Daenerys's back and pulled her closer, until Daenerys was lying on top of her. Arya wanted to keep going, but she had to pull back as a yawn split her jaws and Daenerys started giggling.

"Just sleep for now," she said, tugging Arya up to the top of the bed, where they curled around each other under the blankets, warmth radiating from Daenerys, spreading all throughout Arya's body. "We can talk in the morning."

Arya nodded sleepily and tucked her head into the spot under Daenerys's chin as arms circled around her and pulled her closer.


	27. Flu Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys visits a bed-ridden Arya, who has come down with a moderate case of the flu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is partially based off the idea that Biruchi gave me, but it is completely stand alone.

“Gods, Arya, you look miserable,” Daenerys said when she opened the door to Arya’s flat to see her strewn across the couch, looking as miserable as anyone could look. Dany knew that her girlfriend wasn’t one to get sick, and when she did it made her one of the most pitiful creatures on the planet, and one deserving of a lot of sympathy. Arya lifted her hand and gave a small groan as she squinted her eyes against the light flooding in from the outside hall. Daenerys felt her heart ache for the pain her girlfriend was in and she shut the door.

“Dany?” the young woman slurred and Daenerys crossed the room in quick strides, kneeling next to the couch where Arya lay, wrapped up in at least two blankets, face almost white, paler than she usually was. Her eyes were glazed with fever, and though she was under the blankets, she was shivering. In short, Arya Stark was more sick than Daenerys had ever seen her, and Dany was there to make her feel better. “Don’t come close. ‘M sick.” Dany ignored her and ran a hand through the loose strands of hair that were sticking to her sweaty head. Arya unconsciously leaned into Dany’s hand, and Dany pressed a short kiss to Arya’s forehead before rising from her knees.

“I’m here, Ar,” Dany said tenderly, making Arya groan quietly. The younger of the two hated having nicknames, but she tolerated them from Daenerys because Daenerys tolerated the name Dany in return. “And I am certainly not concerned about getting sick if I can help you to feel better.” Arya gave her a watery smile and mumbled a croaky thank you before she sneezed loudly, jerking her body violently. Daenerys cooed quietly for her to hang on, just for a few minutes.

Stepping into the kitchen, Daenerys looked around to try and find the food to fix a simple soup to help Arya, even just a bit. She found the ingredients to a soup that Arya had taught her how to make that had been passed down in her family for ages. She bustled about the kitchen, humming a random tune that she made up in her head. Arya was coughing and sneezing. 

“Dany?” the whiny voice came from the living room, and Daenerys followed it, sitting on the couch, next to Arya’s sickly form. “I’m cold. Could you get another blanket?” This was worrying. Arya already had a few heavy blankets stretched across her small frame, but she was shivering still. Daenerys pressed a concerned hand to Arya’s forehead, and it burned. Arya whimpered and drew away from her hand. 

“Sorry,” Daenerys said quickly, forgetting about her natural tendency towards warm skin. She retrieved another blanket and wrapped it around Arya, who groaned, though whether in delight or pain Daenerys couldn’t tell. Before they could speak further, the timer in the kitchen buzzed, indicating the soup was done. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Arya nodded and closed her eyes. 

True to her word, Daenerys moved as quickly as she could, serving the soup into a bowl, all while an ear was cocked in Arya’s direction, in case she needed anything. Not a peep came from her girlfriend, so she continued in her work. Daenerys carried the bowl of soup to the living room and set it on the coffee table, gently shaking Arya’s shoulder, who had fallen into a fever induced doze. Dulled gray eyes looked up at her, confused before recognizing her and they lit up briefly.

“Dany, you came back,” Arya mumbled, and Daenerys nodded, pressing another kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead. Concern flashed in her mind, filling every bone in her body, but she knew that worry wouldn’t help Arya, not right now, so she helped the other woman to sit up before feeding her the soup. Arya, her Arya, who could shove a whole hamburger into her mouth and have room for more, barely made it through three spoonfuls of soup before she claimed that she was full. This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good at all. “Love you, Dany.”

“Love you to Ar,” Daenerys said, helping her to lay back down. “Sleep, my love, sleep. You need your strength.” Arya groaned, but closed her eyes, breathing eventually deepening, indicating that she was sleeping. Daenerys brushed her hand across Arya’s face, making it screw up before seeking out the warmth of her hand. She was worried, yes, she was always worried when Arya got sick. Arya made sure to keep healthy, it was who she was, and a sickness, even as mild as a cold, could knock her off her feet for days, even a week or two. The flu, however, brought her down to another level, and it was terrifying to see such a strong woman be reduced to a quivering mess.

Daenerys got to her feet, determined to do something with herself rather than just sit there and worry for hours on end. She whistled quietly, and Nymeria ambled out of Arya’s bedroom, head down, tail drooping. It was as though the dog could tell that her owner wasn’t in top condition, and had taken a blow herself. “Hey Nymeria,” Daenerys greet the dog, who perked up a bit at seeing her. “We’re gonna go for a walk, okay? Your mom’s not feeling to good, so I’m gonna walk you for her?” Nymeria barked, making Daenerys shush her, glancing over shoulder to see that Arya was deep in sleep now. 

The walk was nice. It was good to clear her head for a short while, to be out in nature and let Nymeria roam about her, barking and running and jumping. Arya always let the dog walk off leash, and Dany was nervous the first few times the dog would bound off, but she always came back. Loping across the grass of the park where Daenerys had parked herself. A chill found its way under Dany’s coat, making her shiver. The walk back wasn’t eventful, and she opened the door to the flat, Nymeria pushing past her to lay at the edge of the couch, looking up at Arya with worry in her golden eyes.

Daenerys slid her shoes off and went over to Arya, who was still sleeping quite peacefully. She looked down at Nymeria, who had scooted back to make room for Daenerys, and the older woman picked up her tiny girlfriend, blankets and all, carried her to the bedroom, laying her down there. Nymeria padded in after them and jumped up on the bed, curling up at the base of it, while Daenerys slid the covers up to Arya’s chin, brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, and went to take care of a few more chores that Arya couldn’t complete in her state. There was nothing to do now but distract herself, and wait.


	28. Where Was My Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern!AU.   
> Daenerys should have known that Arya Stark was too good to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from the song 'White Blank Page' by Mumford and Sons.

“So that’s all this was to you then!” Daenerys shouted, running a hand through her silver hair, pacing back and forth across their shared living room. Rage burned in her eyes, as well as hurt and a pain that Arya had never wanted to see there. “A bloody farce? This, us, we meant nothing to you?! It was just a sick game to keep you occupied? I was a plaything, a pawn in that game?” Arya could see tears beginning to leak out of Dany’s eyes, and her heart ached deep in her chest. Gods, what had she done this time? Arya took a small step forward, but Daenerys held her arm out, indicating that she needed to stop. “Don’t come near me,” Daenerys said, the hurt and betrayal in her voice, leaking through to rage, a fiery blow that caught Arya in the stomach. “You stay away.”

“Dany-”

“You don’t get to fucking call me that!” Daenerys interrupted, startling Arya into silence. “You don’t get to call me anything. How do I even know your name is Arya Stark? Is everything a lie?”

“No!” Arya said quickly, perhaps too loudly because Daenerys sent her a glare, daring her to raise her voice again. “No, no, not everything, I swear. I never told you a false name. My name is Arya Stark, that much is true.” Her words rushed out in a jumble, trying to make up for her blunder, for her mistake. “And I loved you, I swear I-”

“Just shut up,” Daenerys said, screwing her eyes closed as her legs carried her back and forth. Arya chewed on lip, a habit she had long since hoped to break, but came out in stressful moments. And she’d thought that this would have gone so much better. This was not how she’d imagined the evening going...

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_  
Earlier that evening  
_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

Arya pushed through the front door of her flat, laden down with bags that she quickly dumped off in front of the door after kicking it clothes. She put her keys in the small tray on a table as she whistled sharply for Nymeria, who came bounding up to her, jumping up to greet her. Arya let herself be pushed over by the husky. A wet tongue rasped over her face again and again. Eventually, once her whole face had been covered in drool, Arya pushed Nymeria off of her and sat up, rubbing behind the ears of her puppy before pulling her phone out, ringing up Daenerys, grinning before her girlfriend even picked up.

It rang three times before Daenerys picked up with a: “Hello?”

“Hey, Dany, wanna come over?” Arya asked, flopping on her couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “I haven’t seen you in forever.” She realized how whiny she sounded, but Daenerys laughed over the line.

“We saw each other yesterday,” Dany said and Arya could hear the smirk on the other woman’s face. “But yeah, I’m already on my way. Be there in 10, okay? Also, get your feet off the coffee table” Arya muttered a ‘good-bye’ before Daenerys hung up. She reluctantly removed her feet from the coffee table and rubbed Nymeria’s head before getting up. She moved over to the kitchen and began to fix a batch of tacos. 

The door opened and closed and Daenerys walked into the kitchen, circling her arms around Arya’s waist, giving her a tight hug. “Hello,” Dany said, and Arya grinned, leaning back into the touch. She was looking forward to this evening, just as she did every evening.

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_  
Present Time  
_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

“Daenerys, please, just look at me,” Arya begged, staying stock still, but looking at Daenerys with pitiful eyes. “I want to explain everything, but...but I’m scared of what you’ll say.” She couldn’t bear to look at her girlfriend...ex-girlfriend? Arya couldn’t actually tell anymore, she couldn’t tell fact from fiction. “Can we just sit down? And talk it out.” Nymeria nosed her head under Arya’s hand, and she took support from the presence of her best friend. Daenerys fixed her with a glare and sat down primly in one of the seats. Arya settled into a chair across from Daenerys, who was staring at her as though she had never seen her before, and that cut deep into Arya’s heart. Nymeria took her place at Arya’s feet, laying across them, continuing to give her support.

“I’m going to listen, that much I’ll say, but I’m going to leave whenever I want to leave. And if you so much as try to bullshit me Arya, I’m never coming back, got it?” Arya nodded meekly, realizing that she wasn’t in any position to argue with anything Daenerys said. Her eyes told the story that her words wouldn’t, and Arya sank into her chair, bracing herself for what she was about to say.

Nothing came out. Not a single word. Anything that she may have been about to say was forgotten when Daenerys turned that look to her, the one of shame and disappointment and godsdamn hurt, and Arya couldn’t take that. Her mouth moved, but sound never escaped her until Daenerys began to rise. Arya knew that this was her one chance, and she was wasting it like a fool. The first word to come out of her mouth was a loud “Wait!” Daenerys paused. “Gods, I making such a mess of this, I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry I keep saying that. It’s all I can think of at the moment, but I swear I’m gonna try to explain what this was.” She waved her hand between them, as though she were a teenager once more. 

“Daenerys, I meant it when I met you, that I knew who you were because of your family name. I mean, come on, who hasn’t heard of the Targaryens at some point in their life or another? I was raised to hate your father for what he did to my uncle and grandfather. They told us about Mad Aerys, my siblings and I, and we ate it up. It meant no difference to us whether a man in the past murdered our family. We didn’t care. But you know, I’ve told you, about what happened to my family. My father, killed in a gunfight, my mother and oldest brother to follow in a car accident. My youngest brother Rickon, dead from being hit by car, and then Bran crippled after he broke his back. 

“I never lied about my past. My tragedies are one that I bear with pain taht I carry with me day after day. But I needed a reason to let it out, so I joined the Faceless Men,” Daenerys didn’t gasp in surprise. She shouldn’t have, at the very least. It was what she had confronted Arya with when Arya had invited her over. “And they sent me to get close to you, and, once I had the information they wanted, kill you.” Arya choked on the words now, words she had so easily repeated to herself once she had met Daenerys, once she had kissed Daenerys, once they’d made love. 

“I already know all this, Arya,” Daenerys said, her voice cold, detached, nothing like the warm woman that Arya knew. “And I seem to recall you telling me, after we’d met, that your tragedies didn’t define you, and yet here you are, letting them define you.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Arya exclaimed, but then tried to reign in her temper, knowing that it certainly wouldn’t help in this situation, where she was trying to do everything she could to make peace between them. “I mean, I’m not letting them define me. I’m just trying to give you reasons as to why I began doing this. The thing is Daenerys, I can’t kill you now. I just...I can’t. I really do love you, but I understand that you probably don’t believe that. If you want, I will get up, and walk out that door and you will never see me again, and I will make sure no one ever comes to kill you.” Silence. Dead silence, and Daenerys was looking at her, eyes reading her face. Arya felt as though she were in the middle of a test, and she knew that she was failing.

Without saying a single word, Daenerys lifted her hand and pointed towards the door. And, though it was Arya’s flat, the younger of the two got to her feet, grabbed her keys, her bag, and walked out the door, as she had promised. She would return later to retrieve her things, perhaps even the next day. The only thing she was thinking about at the moment, however, was the tears forming in her eyes as she walked to the elevator and got in. Gods, she had fucked up so royally.


	29. Marry Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a fancy restaurant, on a seemingly normal date, Arya Stark poses a question that Daenerys must answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the final part in the 'Kiss Me' series thing. Enjoy!

It was sudden, as was the rest of their relationship. A sudden snog in the street, followed out of nowhere by a request for a date. Things had slowed soon after that, both of them realizing that they had met uncoventionally and they needed to take it slow, and really get to know each other. Daenerys had an opportunity to meet every single member of Arya’s family, first one at a time, but then became a regular to their Sunday night mandatory dinners. Arya, in turn, had met Missandei and Dany’s close friend group, as she lost her family in her late teens. And, like all couples, they got closer and closer, until they couldn’t be told one from the other.

Daenerys shouldn’t have been surprised, she really shouldn’t have. Arya never let her cards fall from her chest until she was ready. It had taken her long enough to learn to talk to Dany openly about...well, everything. Arya wasn’t an open person, so Daenerys should have assumed it would have taken a while. Still, here she sat, at an admittedly fancy restaurant, with Arya dressed up (a miracle on its own) in front of her, shifting nervously. They were eating, sipping of wine, and speaking freely of anything and everything, as they often did. However, Arya’s nervous air did not dissipate, even as they finished their meal and moved on to a desert. Finally, Arya got to her feet, taking a deep breath as her hands fiddled with something in her purse.

“Daenerys,” Arya said, taking Dany’s attention off of her food immediately. Her normally strong voice was wavering the tiniest bit, and she cleared her throat. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you for a year now, but it’s never been the right time. Maybe I’m a coward, maybe the gods weren’t looking in my favor until this moment. All I know now is that there is no place I’d rather be than right here in this moment with you. And I also know that every moment of the future, the only place I want to be is right at your side.”

Daenerys could barely breathe as Arya slid onto a knee, pulling a small box from her purse, obviously what she had been fiddling with the entire evening. The tables around them fell silent, to listen to whatever it was that Arya was going to say, but Daenerys couldn’t care any less. “The thing is, Daenerys, when we met, it completely turned my world on its axis. What had began as a simple plan to throw Gendry off my scent grew into a fully fledged romance that blossomed before I could right myself again.

“But I didn’t need to right myself. You were right there, with your hand out to me, offering me a way out of this world, a way that I took. I’ve come to realize after being with you for so long, after all the fights and the harsh words and the love and the dinners with my family that I love you more than I have loved anyone else. 

“So here we are,” Arya chuckled lightly, and it was echoed dimly by Daenerys, who was still holding the same breath she had taken in. “And, uh, I really didn’t have a speech prepared beyond that. I’m kinda winging it.” Another breathy laugh. “Daenerys Targaryen, we’ve known each other for a few years now, but it feels like an eternity to me. Our relationship was unconventional, that much is clear, but no matter what anyone says, I love you, and that’s all that matters. Would you do me the honor of standing at my side for the rest of our lives as my wife?” Arya bit her lip, and Daenerys couldn’t stop the tears of joy that flowed down her face as she nodded again and again.

The restaurant erupted into cheers as Arya slid the ring onto Daenerys’s finger, letting it rest there before lifting the finger to her lips and pressing a kiss to the newly set ring, staring up at Daenerys with her gray eyes and Daenerys pressed a kiss to her lips, deepening it until more cheers reached her ears and she pulled back, flushed and panting, but grinning. 

“Yes, Arya,” she said finally, realizing that she hadn’t actually spoken aloud. “I would love to marry you.” Arya grinned brightly and hugged her, a simple gesture. The room around them quieted and they took a seat once more, holding hand across the table, staring at each other, love struck. “You know your mother is going to be angry you didn’t invite her to see this, right?” Both of them let out uncharacteristic giggles at the very idea of what Arya’s mother would do to them, but it didn’t truly matter. Though it had happened in public, it was a private affair for them. “And I’ll have to ask your dad if I can marry you, which is terrifying.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arya said, waving her free hand through the air, her other hand tightening around Dany’s. “I already talked to him. Well, he talked me down from a panic attack when I first bought the ring.” She blushed, which was something Daenerys had rarely seen from the cool, composed Northerner. “So, you’re good, that I made sure of."

“Good,” Daenerys said simply, and paid for the check before Arya could protest. It had been a common string in their relationship that neither of them wanted the other to pay a check, and often went through tedious debates. “No protesting, you just proposed. I think I can pick up the check.” Arya snorted, but acquiesced, for which Daenerys was glad. They left hand in hand, Arya running her fingers over the new ring on Dany’s left hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any prompts, I'll do my best to fulfill your wishes. XD


	30. I'll Always Protect You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I already swore to you and to the Old Gods, the New Gods, and the God of Many Faces that I would protect you with my life."

Arya pressed her hands to the gaping wound in her stomach, blood coating her fingers, the slick feeling against her skin sickeningly familiar to her from her time with the Faceless Men. Daenerys was kneeling at her side, hands pressed over Arya’s, and the former assassin wanted to reach up and push Daenerys away. Her hands, soft and gentle, did not deserve to be coated with the same blood that covered Arya’s. Arya, however, did not have the strength, and allowed Daenerys to try and help her. At the very least, the smaller woman had fared better than the man who had dared to try and attack Daenerys. He was lying on the floor, not far from Arya, already dead, instead of being like Arya, just in the process of dying.

“I’ve sent for a Maester,” Daenerys told her, voice crackling with tension and the frantic movement of her thoughts through her head. “He should be here in just a few moments, hold on, please, Arya. I can’t lose you.” Arya knew that Daenerys had seen heartbreak. Her husband had died, as well as her son, and even if she didn’t kill directly, the deaths of thousands of soldiers weighed heavily on her mind each night. “Please, hold on.”

“I’m trying my best, love,” Arya replied with a weak laugh, but fought the urge to double over at the pain frying every nerve ending in her body. How easy would it be to just give in to whatever the Many Faced God had planned for her. She had dodged death for so long, had so many close calls that surely it had caught up with her now. Surely it was time for her die. “Good Gods, is this Maester of yours lame, or is he just unaware of the urgency of the matter?” She truly meant that.

Daenerys said nothing, and instead pressed onto the wound in her stomach harder, trying to keep the blood from flowing out. Arya was surprised she hadn’t bled to death, seeing as she had been laying there for upwards of a minute, bleeding with every breath that she took. She and Daenerys had done their best to staunch the blood flow, but Arya estimated she had a minute left, perhaps less if either she or Daenerys removed her hands. Just as Arya was about to give into darkness, the tap of footsteps against the floor of the Red Keep brought her back from the brink. She turned her gaze to the side and saw the Naathi handmaiden turned advisor, Missandei, and a Maester that had recently been employed under Daenerys.

He quickly peeled the bloody tunic off of her skin and then her small clothes, until finally exposing her stomach, coated in blood with a large, but shallow, slice across it. Arya let her hands fall to the side, slick with blood and completely useless, but Daenerys seized one, her right hand, and held it in a vice grip. Even through the blood on her hand, Arya could feel the blood on Dany’s, and wished for nothing more than to be able to wipe it clean and put this matter behind them.

The Maester worked quickly, sowing the wound shut, but only after Arya had resolutely refused the milk of the poppy. She didn’t much care for dulled senses. How else was she supposed to protect her Queen? With the help of a few of her Unsullied, Arya was taken the chambers she shared with Daenerys to rest. Arya, however, again refused to let the world slip into blackness until she knew that Daenerys would be safe. Daenerys, however, didn’t leave Arya’s side through the whole idea, her vice grip never wavering, and once the Queen had dismissed everyone in their chambers, she knelt next to the bed, forehead pressed against Arya’s hip, their fingers still interlocked. Arya, who was still tethering on the brink of sleep, looked down at the sea of silver hair that had spread itself across Arya’s hips and the bed. Weakly, Arya reached a hand across and ran her fingers through the silky strands, and Daenerys leaned into the touch.

“I thought I had lost you,” Dany said, lifting her head to meet Arya’s eyes, which were half-lidded as she slipped closer and closer to blackness. “I thought that I would have to bury yet another love, and I just...I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear losing you. Promise me, please, that you will never do something like this.”

Even in her delirious, half-awake state, Arya knew that she wouldn’t be able to promise such a thing, but she still had to form the words in her head, then with her mouth, to be able to communicate that to Daenerys. No matter what, Arya viewed it as her duty to keep Daenerys safe, no matter the cost to her life. The only thing that mattered was Daenerys staying alive to rule the Seven Kingdoms until she was old and her hair was gray with age. That was Arya’s duty, her personal mission.

“I cannot promise you that, my love,” Arya said, struggling to make the words come out of her mouth in anything but a pained rasp. That was how they ended up coming out anyway. “I already swore to you and to the Old Gods, the New Gods, and the God of Many Faces that I would protect you with my life. I cannot swear to not die if it means you die in my stead. I love you too greatly to have you die under my watch.”

“And I love you too greatly to allow you to die in my stead,” Daenerys said. “I could not bear a life where you are not in it.” Arya was about to reply, she truly was, but the struggle against sleep was fading quickly, and Arya was losing. Daenerys stood from her kneel and carefully crawled onto the bed, curling into Arya’s side, refusing to leave as Arya drifted into sleep, the burning pain in her stomach completely forgotten.


	31. There's A First Time For Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets Daenerys high for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is severely unbeta'd and written in a rush. Hope it's okay.

Daenerys didn’t consider herself a ‘good’ girl. She attended Braavos University as a History Major, and she’d gone to her fair share of parties, both in high school and in college. She didn’t study all day everyday (as her roommate Missandei kept her from it by dragging her out to social events every other minute) and she had a small circle of friends that she hung out and studied with, and then went to grab drinks at the pub with. Needless to say, she’d woken up hungover more than one during the two years she’d been attending Uni, and she doubted that there wouldn’t be more. She did, however, draw the line at drugs, mainly because she had no desire to lose her mind to anything other than alcohol. Alcohol, at the very least, made her pay a physical price anytime she indulged too much.

“C’mon, Dany,” Arya Stark, the daughter of the man who had betrayed Daenerys’s father, said, nudging Daenerys in the side. From anyone else, Daenerys would have despised being called Dany, but there was a certain charm about the Stark girl that kept her from snapping at her. “Take a hit. You’ll feel a lot better.” The younger woman extended a hand to her, with a joint clasped in two fingers, pointed at her. An offer. A request, if she knew Arya well enough. They were both stretched out onto the floor of Daenerys’s dorm. Missandei was out partying, but Daenerys had wanted to study. She’d called up Arya, who had immediately lit a joint and began smoking as they had attempted to study. Soon they had ended up on the floor, talking like they were both still in high school, which led to this moment.

“Uh, no thanks,” Daenerys said, hoping that Arya was high enough to neglect to notice the hesitance in her voice. She should have known Arya better, because the younger girl propped herself up, looking over Daenerys with those deep gray eyes that had seen sadness, that had been hurt over and over again. Those eyes bore into her soul as they often did, and Daenerys looked away, so Arya could not see the true emotions in her eyes.

“Never smoked?” Arya asked with a smirk, sounding completely high out of her mind. It was still one of the cutest things that Daenerys had seen, but she wasn’t going to take a hit of the joint, no matter how much Arya pressured her into it. Daenerys shook her head, making Arya cackle. “It’s okay,” Arya said. “It’s just like smoking a cigarette, but it feels sooooo much better.” Another cackle as Arya shoved the joint into her hands, and Daenerys reluctantly pressed the joint to her lips and took a hit.

She held it for too long.

Arya patted her on the back as Daenerys coughed harshly, the joint almost slipping from her fingers as her very world shook. There was a sort of fuzzy feeling to the edge of the world, however, and Daenerys could feel a small piece of her mind slip away. If that was all smoking weed was, perhaps she could stand to take another hit. Once the coughing fit had passed and Daenerys could breathe again, she pressed the joint to her lips and took another hit, much more sure of herself this time, and she passed the deadly stick to Arya, who gave her a smirk before she took a hit.

Soon, they had burned through another joint, and both were high of their asses, laughing on the floor at anything and everything. Somehow, in the midst of their laughing and smoking, Arya had landed on top of Daenerys, and was looming above her, their faces only a few inches apart. The gray eyes were staring down at her once more and Daenerys had never really noticed how they reflected her violet ones so well and she blamed it on the weed when she drew Arya into a heated kiss.

It was sloppy and (if she admitted it to the back of her mind) completely unlike she had been imagining, but it was almost as intoxicating as the weed. Arya’s lips were sure of themselves, as if she had been planning this moment since she had first lit up. The two stayed positioned like that for what seemed eternity, with smoke filtered into the air. Any breath that Daenerys took was immediately claimed by Arya, again and again, until Daenerys was gasping for air for the best of reasons. 

Arya pulled away, gasping herself, looking a tad more sober than she had been before the two had started making out on the floor of Daenerys’s dorm room...shit. Any feelings of the high were eradicated as Daenerys remembered exactly where they were. Arya rolled off of her, landing on the rub they had laid out, giggling like a maniac (and still managing to look sexy while she did so, damn her). Daenerys, however, couldn’t force herself to partake in the mirth, and she sat up, letting the world spin in circles as she did so. Her ears vaguely registered Arya saying:

“I told you it would make you feel better,” before she descended once more into a giggling mess. Daenerys got to her feet and looked around the room until she spied the clock they had placed up on the wall. They had been on the floor for little under an hour. Daenerys drew her hand down her face and helped a giggling Arya over to the couch, where she subsequently collapsed into another fit of giggles. Daenerys didn’t know if she could take this for much longer. This, definitely, would be the last time Arya came over to study with her. She was just too distracting.

Daenerys spared a parting look over her shoulder at the younger girl to see her stretched out on the couch, looking at her through half-lidded eyes, obviously ready for a nap. She reached a hand out to Daenerys and the Targaryen sighed before crossing the room and laying on the couch next to Arya, who cuddled up to her like it was an everyday thing. Daenerys, in the back of her mind, knew that their relationship could never go back to the way it was.

They hadn’t been friends, not at first. In fact, both of them had taken their lineage a tad too seriously, and it had resulted in several arguments that had escalated quickly. It was only after Daenerys had been forced to become her peer mentor that things had started to turn. As she had learned more and more about the youngest daughter of Ned Stark, she realized that she had been completely wrong about her. Arya Stark wasn’t a backstabbing, traitorous assassin (now that she thought back on it, it was a wonder she didn’t get diagnosed with a psychosis of any kind) She found, instead, that Arya was kind, courageous, and, yes, a bit of a pain in the ass, but in an endearing way. 

And now she was passed out on Dany’s couch, after making out with her for an hour. The Gods truly hated her. The only thing worse would be-

“Daenerys, I’m back!” Yes, that, Missandei walking through the door. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any prompts or ideas are greatly appreciated!


	32. Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya Stark, captured by Hunters, is rescued by one Daenerys Targaryen.

Arya curled up on the floor of the truck, the wheels bouncing along the rocky road, jolting her back and forth until she felt as though her last meal would come back up and make itself known to the back of the truck. Another jolt sent her flying against the wall, scrabbling along the floor, trying to keep her grip, but she ended up sliding across the floor to hit the wall. She grunted and righted herself, wishing that this hell would end for once. She stared at the back of the truck, looking mournfully at the locks on the door, wishing she could open them. Arya settled back down and glared at them, wishing that she could just go back to her family, beg for forgiveness, anything to get out of here, even if it meant she would be teased until she grew old. Anything, anything would be better than this.

Just as Arya was about to give in and fall asleep, probably to never wake up again, there was a click from the door, a minute sound that sent Arya’s senses into overdrive. She waited for another sound, another hint that someone was helping her. The door clicked once more and then popped open, revealing the dirt rushing under the truck and a young woman. Silver hair was tied back into a ponytail that flapped through the wind, and violet eyes gazed deep into Arya’s. The hand beckoned to Arya and the girl rose to her feet and leaped without a second though. She hit the dirt hard, rolling through the rocks and gravel that bit into her skin. The woman who had freed her jumped down after her and landed perfectly next to her, eyes alight with passion and excitement.

“Arya Stark, right?” the woman asked, and Arya nodded, earning herself a grin. “Good. Come on, let’s go.” She took off, and Arya could barely keep up. Her legs were tight from laying for so long, and her feet thrummed against the dirt. Her ears were perked for any sounds, waiting for the truck to turn around, but it seemed as though they still assumed that Arya was in the back. That would allow her more time.

They raced along the road, back towards civilization, and the woman pulled her aside only once they had reached a stretch of woods that would provide shelter for them. Arya was panting heavily, heaving out breaths as her rescuer looked around, anywhere but at Arya. When she did, there was a surprise there, probably at her appearance, and Arya offered a wolfish grin between her pants. The woman knelt in front of her, looking at her still as she spoke once more.

“I wasn’t expecting...this,” the woman said, waving a hand over Arya’s body. She could understand, seeing as not many did. “But, since I think you can understand me, my name is Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen. I heard about what happened to you and I couldn’t stand by and let someone be kidnapped. You know how it is, so I joined the search, and picked up this trail. I’m really glad your okay. Your family has been worried sick about you, so we should get you home. Can you walk?”

Arya nodded and wished she could shift back. It was much easier to communicate with this Daenerys woman if she wasn’t a bloody wolf. They began to walk along the road, Arya padding beside Daenerys, who was looking over her shoulder at almost every minute of every day. The drug in Arya’s system was wearing off, she could feel it, and she knew that she would be able to shift back into her human form soon enough. 

“Are you okay?” Daenerys asked randomly once they had been walking for at least an hour. “I mean, why aren’t you a human again? Shouldn’t you be able to shift back by now?” Arya gave her a helpless look. “Right, you can’t talk. Sorry. That was my bad.” They continued on and silence, Arya feeling stronger and stronger as they went. She would pause every few minutes to try and shift, again and again, but she was unable to.

Finally, she paused and attempted to shift and felt the change in her body due to going back after so long. In mere moments she was stretched across the dirt, stark naked (pun certainly not intended) feeling weaker than she ever had. There was a short gasp from her right, where Daenerys had been walking, and the crunch of rocks in the ground as she knelt next to Arya whose head was spinning. 

“Are you okay?” Daenerys asked, and Arya nodded, not trusting her voice at the current moment. A piece of cloth was draped across her shoulders as Daenerys helped her to her feet. “Can you walk now?” Arya shook her head this time, and Daenerys wrapped Arya’s arm about her shoulders, helping her to limp along the road weakly. “Uhm...I suppose this is the part where we truly introduce ourselves. Like I said before, I’m Daenerys Targaryen, and I know you’re Arya Stark...okay, that was introductions. I’m really sorry. I’m not very good at this.”

“It’s okay,” Arya croaked out, surprising Daenerys enough to make her jump. Arya drew the jacket she had been given closer to her body with one hand. Being completely naked in the elements wasn’t the best way to spend her time. “This isn’t a normal situation.” Her voice had almost died by the end of the sentence, but Daenerys was nodding along with what she was saying. Arya looked ahead, down the road, and she rasped out a groan at how long they were going to have to walk.  
“The car we’re taking back to King’s Landing is just around the corner,” Daenerys assured her, and Arya nodded, unable to speak anymore. Daenerys helped her to (and into) the car before handing her a set of clothes. Arya changed quickly and unabashedly in front of Daenerys. She knew she should have displayed more caution in front of the Targaryen woman, but...Gods, she had rescued her and given her clothes, and she was just too awkward to be out to hurt her. Right?

Daenerys was blushing when Arya looked over at her and Arya offered her a smile as they pulled away from the forest, driving back to King’s Landing. There was an unopened bottle of water in the car and Arya took a long drink of it, almost moaning in happiness as she felt her throat hydrate and she could speak again.

“Thank you,” Arya said immediately as she set the bottle of water down. “I don’t really know what I would have done before you showed up, so thanks. Did my family send you?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Daenerys said. “See, I just saw the article in the paper. I know our family hasn’t been on the best of terms since, well, for quite awhile, but...I don’t really have a reason as to why I came to rescue you. I just wanted to, if that makes any sense. Because our family hate each other, but I don’t really want to hate a bunch of people without knowing them, and I kinda hope this will be a bridge between our two families, if that makes any sense.”

“Yeah,” Arya replied, settling into the seat, thankful the jacket was big enough to cover most of her torso, falling down to her knees when she stood. “It makes sense.” They fell into silence once more, and Arya used the opportunity to truly examine her rescuer. There was no denying the beauty of the Targaryen woman, that much was clear. Her silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail that had a few strands pulled loose in their struggle down the road and into the car. Arya could vaguely see violet eyes looking into the mirrors, being a responsible driver while Arya herself never much cared for rules such as that. Her arms and face were tanned, and Arya briefly recalled that the Targaryen woman had spent time in Essos for reasons she just couldn’t recall. 

“We’ll be in King’s Landing in a few hours,” Daenerys informed her. “Why don’t you sleep until then? That way you won’t be super grumpy with your family when you see them again.”

Arya didn’t need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if y'all want a continuation of this piece.


	33. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya had read every book she could get her hands on, but nothing could prepare her for the nervousness of her wife giving birth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Aemeth for the idea. I know I said Marry Me was going to be the last part in this series, but I couldn't help myself. Hope ya'll enjoy.

The room was barely big enough to fit all of the Stark Clan without the added pacing of a certain Arya Stark, who wouldn’t stop running her hand through her hair, over and over again, casting looks at the door every couple of seconds, as though it would make the time until the door opened go any faster. Arya paced the length of the room, and Tully and Stark eyes followed her as she went, looking curious and annoyed, until Sansa spoke up, the only one who could pull Arya down from any panic that she was having, besides their father, who wasn’t there yet.

“Arya, you aren’t helping anyone by pacing holes in the floor,” the redhead said, and Arya stopped moving, running her hand through her hair still. She moved only to take a seat next to Sansa, still radiating nervous energy. “I’m sure Daenerys will be fine, these are doctors we’re talking about. They know what they’re doing.” Arya could appreciate her sister, she really could, but she didn’t need to be calmed down. She couldn’t be calmed down right now, not with Daenerys in the next room.

“Listen, Ar, Dad will get here in a few minutes. Just hold off on the panic attack until then, okay?” Jon said from across the room, looking at her with something akin to pity. Arya felt an irrational anger at her brother, but knew it was because of the stress that she was ready to explode. She wasn’t going to make it.

“Arya Lyanna Stark,” her father’s booming voice filled the room as he entered, and Arya wanted to melt into a puddle, though whether from relief or stress she wasn’t sure. “Please tell you you haven’t been on the edge of a panic attack.” Arya didn’t reply, and rushed to her father, hugging him tightly. The large arms of her father crushed her to his chest, bringing a modicum of comfort that she didn’t think was possible at this time. “How is she, kiddo?”

“The doctors aren’t saying anything to us right now,” Arya admitted to her father, not wanting to let him go, wanting to go back to that time in her childhood when he could do anything and everything. The panic in her chest was settled by seeing him, but it still roiled underneal the calm surface. “I’m scared, Dad. I’m really, really scared. I just feel...helpless. I can’t help her with this and I hate it and it’s just-” Arya could feel herself panicking, her heartbeat growing erratic along with her breathing, and Ned took a hold of her shoulders, making her look him in the eyes.

“Daenerys will be fine,” her father assured her. “I am certain that the doctors will open the doors to that room any second and bring you in, just you wait, Little Wolf.” He ruffled her hair, just as he did when she was a child, and it soothed her. “And when you get in there,” he continued a moment later. “She’s going to curse everything you two have done together, she’s going to be awful to you, but you need to love her. She needs you now more than ever.” Just as he had said that, the doors opened and one of the nurses beckoned her inside.

Arya almost wished she hadn’t followed. Almost.

Because while the room was chaotic, though in an organized manner, seeing Daenerys there on the hospital bed made Arya’s heart burst with love for her wife. She moved to Dany’s side quickly, inserting herself into the space beside her wife, taking up her hand, only to have it squeezed so tightly Arya was sure that it would break.

“Gods, ‘bout time you got here,” Daenerys hissed out, and Arya remembered her father’s words, allowing the word to wash over her without truly thinking about the meaning behind them. Her wife groaned in pain, looking as beautiful as ever. “Ah, remind me again why we wanted to do this?”

“You can do this,” Arya replied instead of answering the question, pressing a kiss to Dany’s forehead as she squeezed Arya’s hand tighter. “You are the strongest, most beautiful, best woman I know, and I know that there is no one else that I’d want to be the mother of my child.” Daenerys looked at her with her violet eyes raw with emotion, love and pain and anger, and Arya pressed another kiss to her forehead, listening to the doctor as he instructed Daenerys to push. 

This went on, for long enough for Arya to wonder if she would ever be able to use her hand ever again. It was all made worth it, however, when the wail of a child split the air, cutting through the sound of the machines and talking nurses. Daenerys released her hands, collapsing back against the collection of pillows, her eyes following the nurse as she cut the cord before handing Daenerys the child.

“She’s beautiful,” Arya said immediately, staring down at their daughter as Daenerys held her close. Though her wife was sweaty, and Arya herself was still on the back end of a panic attack, they linked their fingers as they stared down at their newborn child, and the doctors and nurses left the room to give them time alone before her family came pouring in. “I was super nervous, you know,” Arya said, running her fingers through the silver hair of her lover. “I didn’t know what was going to happen to you” 

“I’m fine, Arya,” Daenerys said breathlessly. “I’m not the first person in the world to deliver a child.” Arya cracked a smiled at that, which Daenerys returned, completely exhausted. Arya ran a hand across their daughter’s forehead as her family began to pour into the room, crowding around the new mothers. Jon and Robb patted her on the back, congratulating her, while Sansa was checking on Daenerys in her stead. 

Ned was the last to come up to his daughter and daughter in law, looking down on them with a proud expression on his face. “What are you calling her, Little Wolf?” he asked, and everyone in the room looked to Arya, who was grinning, ever the proud mother that she was, an arm on Dany’s shoulder to protect her.

“We decided on Maera Jeyne Stark,” Arya announced and earned herself another pat on the back from nearly all of her family, a teary hug from her mother, and Sansa looking at her as though she saw someone completely new in her younger sister. “Now all of you get out of here,” Arya said, tired of the sappy moments, wanting to take some time alone with her wife and daughter. “Dany’s is beat, she doesn’t need to deal with all of you.” They filed out almost as quickly as they had come in, laughing and joking about Arya’s grumpy attitude.

“We picked the perfect name,” Daenerys decided, looking at Arya as the woman settled into the chair. “Thank you for-”

“No, Daenerys, you don’t get to thank me. I have to thank you. You carried our child for 9 months with barely any complaint.”That was a lie, but Arya wasn’t about to say anything to the contrary. “And you just spent 9 hours in labor to deliver her. I cannot express how happy I am, and how much I love you.” Arya looked down at Maera and her mother, but found them both sound asleep. Arya spared a tired grin, sliding down from her adrenaline high as she slumped into a chair and descended into sleep herself, draped across the side of the hospital bed.


	34. Hidden Away in a Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys never really considered herself a friendly person, but seeing the junior eating in the corner every day made her want to get up and befriend her. So she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to naomj for the prompt. Hope you enjoy.

Daenerys Targaryen could admit that most of the student body at KLHS (Kings Landing High School) viewed her as some form of popular or another. She had joined the lacrosse team in her sophomore year and had quickly risen through the ranks until her senior year came and she was the captain of the team. She came from a good back background with the school (the Targaryens, who had turned out many honors students with scholarships to the top schools in Westeros.) Needless to say, Daenerys had garnered a reputation.

Still, she wasn’t a complete and total bitch, like that asshole Joffrey and his cronies. She actually cared for her fellow classmates and stayed to herself mostly, even though she could have easily stuck with the lacrosse team. Yes, she enjoyed playing enough to want to be the captain, but it wasn’t the only thing she was worried about. There wasn’t a lot that she worried about, actually, beyond her grades and scholarship opportunities. Oh, and the junior who sat by herself at lunch, looking lost but at the same time glaring at everything that moved. It had become a kind of obsession for Daenerys, watching the junior in the corner every single day. She had choppy dark brown hair and steel gray eyes that were hardened against the rest of the world. 

“Why do you keep looking at her?” Missandei asked, sliding into the seat next to Dany’s. The Naathi girl gave her a strange look, but Daenerys shrugged, never taking her eyes from the loner. “She’s not going to like that, you know.” Daenerys didn’t reply, still keeping her eyes on the girl.

“What are you talking about? Daenerys asked, finally turning her head to look at her friend. Missandei didn’t say anything more, just pointed in the girl’s direction. When Daenerys turned to look once more, she saw the girl glaring at her, a frown pulling at the edges of her lips. Daenerys thought she looked more sad than angry. “Oh.” 

“Yeah, stop staring,” Missandei hissed, knocking Daenerys on the side of her head, turning her gaze to the floor. “You don’t want her to get mad at you, okay?”

“Why not?” Daenerys asked, giving her friend a confused look. The other teen looked reluctant to say anything, and Daenerys decided she was done with the lack of answers. She got up from her seat and walked over to the table where the loner was sitting, dropping her tray onto the table as she sat down across from her. “Hello-”

“What do you want?” the girl snapped before Daenerys could even begin her greeting, shocking her. “You know what, whatever it is, I don’t care. Leave me alone.” Daenerys stared at her for a moment before shaking her head, a silent refusal. 

“My name is-”

“I don’t care, sweetheart,” the girl said, interrupting her yet again. Daenerys bit her tongue to keep from snapping back, deciding to start again, and keep going even if this girl interrupted her again. She would get her name to this girl, at the very least.

“I’m Daenerys Targaryen,” Dany said pushing through as the girl went to interrupt them again. “I’m a senior here, and I noticed you sitting here alone. What’s your name?” The girl said nothing, only picked up her tray, walked over to the trash, dumped it in, and left the cafeteria. Daenerys sighed heavily and ate her food alone, thinking through what she would have to right next time.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The next day, Dany made a beeline for where the girl was sitting. The moment she had set her tray down, the girl was moving to stand up, most likely a repeat performance of the day before. Daenerys abandoned her food to chase after the girl, but was left in the dust by the tiny speed demon. Daenerys cursed and returned to the table, where Missandei was waiting with her food and a shake of her head. Dany refused to say a word as she sat back down and began to eat her food, plotting her next move. Missandei seemed to sense her mood and ate her food without saying another word.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

This continued on, day after day, week after week, until at least a month had gone by. No matter what Daenerys tried, the girl wouldn’t give her name nor would she stay at the table for more than two or three moments. Still, Daenerys persisted sitting there, day after day, until the girl snapped, looking up abruptly from her tray, staring deep into Daenerys’s eyes. The steel gray eyes were burning with a passion that Daenerys hadn’t seen there before, not since the anger from the first day.

“Why are you still here?” she asked. “I mean, I’m not gonna be your bloody charity case, so you can leave now. I don’t want your pity or your sympathy, okay?” Daenerys was startled by this and immediately rushed to correct the girl.

“You’re not my charity case,” Dany said, wanting to reach across the table, but knowing that she couldn’t, seeing as the girl didn’t seem to respond well to any kind of contact. “I was just...curious. You sit alone and I wanted to get to know you, okay. Is that so bad?”

“Yes, it is,” the girl replied. “I know what you popular girls are like. You pretend to be friends with some poor little wallflower and then you make them the laughingstock of everyone. Well, you can’t fool me, alright. So just leave me alone. I don’t need your pity and I don’t need your friendship!” The girl was shouting by the end of her little outburst, and the cafeteria fell silent, eyes turned to them. The girl glared at all of them, and then down at Dany, and she had such vitriol in her gaze that Dany was taken aback enough while she snatched up her tray and stormed out, dumping it in the trash. She was almost out the door when a familiar voice shouted.

“Hey, Horseface, you got a problem with your girlfriend?” Joffrey Baratheon was shouting from across the room, and Daenerys saw the look of hurt and betrayal the crossed her face when the girl turned her gaze back to Daenerys. Almost as quickly as she could move, Daenerys was chasing after her as she pushed through the cafeteria doors, the laughter of the entire student body behind them.

Dany kept pace with the girl this time, following her as closely as she could, finally reaching her hiding place, under the bleachers. The silver haired girl ducked under them and saw the scruffy girl curled up under the metal structure, hurriedly wiping tears from her face.

“Came here to humiliate me some more?” There was no more hate there, no more anger, just a tiredness that made Daenerys feel even worse. She had caused this, she and her persistence to make friends with someone who clearly didn’t want any friends. 

“No,” Daenerys said, taking a seat next to her. “It’s probably pointless to say this, but I didn’t plot anything with that arse, Joffrey. I completely forgot he was even there.” The girl sighed and rubbed at her eyes again with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, obviously trying to appear strong in front of Daenerys. “I’m truly sorry for what he said. He’s an-”

“You don’t have to say anything else,” the girl said. “I get it. You’re the one girl who’s different right? You don’t want to pick on the ugly sister of the most popular girl in the school because you think it’s cool. You want to make friend with her, defend her from the mean bullies like this is some Hallmark film. Well it isn’t. You can leave now. I don’t want you here.”

“You may not want me, but you need me,” Daenerys said firmly. “I don’t care whose sister you are. No one deserves to be treated like that and-”

“And what? You’re gonna stop the bullying that’s been going on since I was a child? Yeah, good luck with that, Daenerys. Perhaps you can get your lacrosse buddies to beat the shit out of him. He would deserve that, wouldn’t he?” The girl laughed, and Daenerys joined in, feeling more companionable with this girl than she ever had before. Though she was still degrading Daenerys, her tone had taken a hint of teasing to it, and Daenerys counted any small step as a move in the right direction.

“You’ve never told me your name,” Daenerys said, looking at her and the girl turned to look at her, a pitying smirk on her face.

“Arya Stark,” the girl replied, extending a hand, which Daenerys took. “You know, sister to Sansa Stark, the most beautiful, dateable girl in the entirety of Westeros, if you listen to the boys. The one everyone calls Horseface, because, let’s face it, not everyone can be graced with Sansa’s beauty.” Dany said nothing for a beat before saying.

“Nice to meet you,” which made Arya erupt into a cackling laugh that made Daenerys scared, but in a slightly good way. Perhaps she had finally gotten through to this girl. “Does this mean you’re going to stop running from me at lunch and actually have a civil conversation?”

“I dunno,” Arya said, recovering from her fit. “It’s just-” The bell rang loudly, interrupting the girl. “Gotta go.”

“See you tomorrow, Arya!” Daenerys called after the running girl, staring as her skinny frame darted out from under the bleachers, bag already over her shoulder as she moved. “You’re beautiful to me, Arya, no matter what,” she said to the air, and she could have sworn Arya looked back at her with a question in her eyes. Daenerys shook her head, calling herself crazy for imagining such a thing. She picked up her own bag and began her long walk back to class.


	35. You Said What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soulmates AU that nobody asked for. The first words your soulmate says to you are written on your arm. Arya isn't happy with hers, but Daenerys is even less happy. After all, she has a bloody monologue scrawled across her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really sorry if this is crap and is forced. I wasn't feeling the inspiration, but managed to write this. Enjoy!

“Wait, wait, wait, what’s on your arm?” Arya snatched her left arm away from Jon’s tight grip, who was looking over at her with curiosity in his eyes. “Let me see, Little Wolf. I wanna know if you got your mark or not.”

“Shut up, Jon,” Arya snapped, pulling the sleeve down over her arm in a fluid movement, covering the writing there from sight. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just… leave me alone.” Arya stood from the barstool she had been sitting on, retreating to her room, where most of her belongings were already packed up in boxes, stacked high against the walls. The only think that was still standing was her bed, which she jumped on, already drawing up the sleeve of her sweatshirt to look at the words imprinted on her skin there, a tattoo made by destiny. Or, whoever her soulmate was meant to be.

Everyone knew that once you reached 18 years of age, there was a burning pain in your arm and the first words your soulmate would ever say to you would appear there, waiting, for all the world to see. Sansa had gotten hers already, and met the love of her life, some girl named Margaery that Arya could barely be bothered to remember. Robb had a woman named Talisa, Jon a woman named Ygritte. Things had just worked out for them. It had been simple for them. But no, Arya had to have the words: ‘I don’t want to walk in on you fucking your boyfriend’ branded across her skin for the rest of eternity. She certainly hoped that whoever this person was, they were worth it.

That was why Arya had taken to wearing sweatshirts lately, in the house and out in public. She wasn’t ashamed of the mark, she just didn’t want little kids to see it. They might get the wrong idea. Arya herself had gotten the wrong idea. She was so bloody confused that she couldn’t even think straight most of the time. Her ears strained for the words anytime she was out in the street, eyes searching for something that wasn’t there, that hadn’t been there before and wasn’t going to be there for a long time. It had taken her siblings years to find their soulmates, and she had only just gotten it the week prior.

“Arya?” Someone was banging on the door and Arya recognized it as her sister, Sansa. She didn’t get up to greet her or even open the door, and Sansa opened the door of her own accord, coming to sit next to Arya, grabbing her arm before she could pull the sleeve back down to cover the writing from view. “You know, you should have told us you got your mark.”

“I didn’t want it,” Arya muttered. “Especially not those words. I’m gonna lay into my soulmate once I meet them. Really lay into them.” Sansa said nothing, and released her arm. Arya pulled her sleeve back down to cover it, staring at the ground as she kicked her legs, waiting for Sansa to say something about Margaery and patience or some other type of bullshit that she constantly shouted, but not a word passed her lips.

“You almost ready to leave?” she asked, and Arya looked about the room, motioning to the boxes as an answer. “I can’t believe you’re moving out already. It’s hard to think we were so young before.” Sansa rested her hand on her shoulder and Arya looked at her. “Good luck, Arya. I hope you find your soulmate and they aren’t like Joffrey was.” And then she was gone, leaving Arya to finish packing up the last few items in the boxes.

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

Daenerys finished sliding the last of her boxes against the wall of the shiny dorm room, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she looked over to where Missandei was setting up her bed, grinning as she hummed a tune under her breath. It was move in day at University at Braavos and freshmen and sophomores were moving about the halls, hauling in boxes full of personal belongings. 

“Daenerys, Grey Worm is coming over in a few minutes,” Daenerys rolled her eyes fondly at the tone of her best friend as she spoke of her longtime boyfriend/soulmate. “Do you want to stay here to see him?” Now Daenerys scoffed, shaking her head.

“Listen, Missandei, as much as I enjoy seeing your boyfriend, it is an eternal reminder that I have yet to find my soulmate, so I will politely say screw that, I’m out of here. I am not coming back until you give the all clear. I don’t want to walk in on you fucking your boyfriend,” Daenerys was already halfway through the door, turning her gaze to the hall to see a tiny woman standing there, box cradled in her arms, her eyes nearly popping out of her skull. Before Daenerys could ask if she was okay, the woman set the box down and marched right up to her.

“Oh my gods, seriously? You’re the one who said that? Do you have any idea how many looks I have gotten from parents because that’s on my arm? It’s the worst fucking thing in the world. What could possess you to say that? Is it just some fucking random thing you wanted to say, or were you just going to broadcast it to the whole bloody world?” The tiny woman stared at her, eyes narrowed in a sharp glare, and Daenerys merely raised an eyebrow in return, rolling up the sleeve of her shirt, unwrapping the cloth she kept there to cover the words, showing it to her, the exact words the woman had just said reflected back at her, with Daenerys’s glare to accompany. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“Yeah, I would think so. You think you have it rough? Imagine the looks I’m getting when I walk down the street,” the girl had the sense to look down at her toes in shame, and Daenerys felt a twinge of guilt. This was her soulmate after all. She should be treating her better. “But…” She couldn’t really think of what to say before the girl reached out and grabbed her hand.

“My name is Arya Stark, and it appears that I would be your soulmate,” Arya said, giving her a small grin. Daenerys grinned back and quickly introduced herself before pressing her lips to Arya’s knowing that it wasn’t that big of a deal. They were soulmates after all.

When she pulled away, Arya was giving her this dazed smile, and hadn’t let go of her hand. Daenerys gave her a returning grin, fiddling with the other girl’s fingers. “Would you like to grab a coffee? My roommate is having her boyfriend over and I don’t really want to go back there for a while.” Arya giggled at that and they walked hand and hand down the street, arms exposed for the first time in months (for Arya) and a year (Daenerys). And neither could be more proud.


	36. My Muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys is an artist, Arya is a gymnast. Dany can't help but sketch her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2

It had begun when Daenerys had been leaving the studio for the day sketchbook tucked under her arm as she walked with Missandei, a painter who she often collaborated with. Dany’s eyes took a cursory glance of the hall, and across the giant staircase that led to the ground floor of the building, a group of young women were standing about, talking and stretching. She could see that they had to be dancers or gymnasts of some kind, seeing as they were all dressed in leotards and tights. There was one that stood apart from the others, phone held between her shoulder and her ear. She had brown hair that was tied up in a messy bun, strands of all lengths hanging off her sharp face. 

Her eyes were a steel grey, hardened as a frown pulled at the edges of her lips, making her look much older than she probably was. Her lips were moving, eyes narrowed as the person on the other end of the line, and Daenerys stopped to sit at a bench, setting a sketchbook across her lap, letting the pencil dance over the page as she stared at the young woman. Missandei continued on as though she had never left and Daenerys looked down to correct a line. When she looked up, the group of girls was gone, replaced by another. Daenerys sighed and closed the sketchbook, getting up to head back to her dorm. Missandei was waiting with a grin, but said nothing. Daenerys headed to her desk to study, stowing her sketchbook into her bag.

A week later (when she had opened that sketchbook once more and realized that though she had seen the girl, she had never had time finished the sketch) after her class, she packed up her things as quickly as she could and saw the girls milling outside the room, which she had discovered was where the gymnastics class was held. The same young woman was there again, and in almost the exact same position, phone against her shoulder, looking sadder than Daenerys had seen her before. Daenerys plopped herself back down on the bench and continued to sketch, until the girl went inside the classroom and Daenerys was left alone once more. She curled her legs up under her and began to adjust the lines, losing herself in the drawing of the young woman.

She barely noticed when the sound of doors opening hit her ears and a rush of bodies flowed by her. She looked up at the last moment and say the retreating backside of the girl and had to keep herself from looking anywhere but the back of her head. The flood of gymnasts changed quite quickly, and the girl came back out with her hair down, locks barely reaching her shoulder as she passed by in a t-shirt and jeans, still looking stony faced. Daenerys got up, hoping to be subtle, ripping the page from sketchbook.

The mystery intrigued her so much that she did not just give the paper to the young woman, but instead strolled along behind her as they moved to the dorm wing, where she found that they were only a few doors apart.Too appear less conspicuous, she entered her dorm for a few minutes before slipping back up with a roll of tape. She stuck the picture to the door of the girl’s dorm and knocked on the door before slipping back into her room. Dany’s heart was racing along in her chest, beating out a song that Daenerys didn’t know the melody to, as she waited for a sign that anything had happened. 

Her phone rang, making her jump nearly a foot in the air, but she picked it up, pressing the receiver to her ear, waiting for anything.

“You’re a really good artist,” the voice said, and Dany knew immediately that it was the girl, it was the one she had been watching and drawing. “I’m honored to be your subject, I really am, but I’m kinda creeped out. It seems as though you followed me.” Daenerys knew she had to deny it and thought up an excuse.

“You live two doors down from me,” she said, by way of explanation. “I noticed you today when you went into your room. I’m not a creep.” the woman laughed on the other end, and Daenerys grinned, though she knew she couldn’t be seen. “My name is Daenerys. What’s yours?”

“Arya,” the girl replied. “Pleased to talk with you. Can you open the door?” Daenerys whirled around and opened the door, revealing the slim girl she had spent a whole week agonizing over in her drawing. They hung up and Daenerys invited her at the time, and Arya stepped in, waving at Missandei, who was stretched out across her bed. “Nice room. Looks really similar to mine.”

“I should hope so,” Daenerys replied with a small snort of laughter. “Missandei, this is Arya-”

“This chick you were drawing the other day?” her best friend asked, getting up from her bed to walk to the door. “I already got it. Don’t lock me out, okay?” Dany didn’t have time to respond before the Naathi woman had sauntered through the door and closed it, leaving Daenerys and Arya alone to look at each other, awkwardly.

“She’s very...interesting,” Arya said eventually, obviously trying to be polite. “Have you lived with her long?”

“Oh yes,” Daenerys said immediately. “We went to high school together, and she wanted to go to college with me, so we roomed together. She helps to pay the rent and we get along well together. We practically lived at each other’s houses in our last year of high school. You know how it is.” Arya shrugged, and Daenerys bit her tongue, cursing it’s lack of restraint.

“I would not, but I am sure that many would,” Arya said, trying to be polite. “You are here studying art?” Daenerys nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “You are very good, that I must say. I’m a gymnast, as you have obviously seen. Perhaps we could go out for coffee sometime, when we don’t have classes? I would love to get to know you more, but I have work to get done.” Arya rose from where she had perched in Daenerys’s home, waving goodbye as she floated out the door almost as quickly as she had come.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

They met a few days later for coffee and talked well into the evening about, well, anything and everything. She learned a lot about Arya and they agreed that they should hang out again sometime. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you keep leaving art on my doorstep, just don’t stalk me next time,” Arya offered a grin and they walked back in the chilly night jackets pulled tight about their shoulders. Daenerys was cold, yes, but it seemed as though Arya was completely unaffected. Northerners.

They strolled through the streets of Braavos, looking around at where they called home, at least for the next stretch of a few years. Daenerys looked about at the darkening sky, stars peaking out, though only the brightest, and then over at the woman she was with, deciding then and there that the beauty of Arya could not compare to any other beauty in the world. It was then that she knew she would not be able to merely be friends with the Northerner. 

“Goodnight, Arya,” Daenerys said, opening the door to her dorm. Arya grinned and repeated the sentiments, retreating to her own dorm, leaving Daenerys to flop against her door and sigh deeply. Missandei again offered her a grin, looking more and more like the Cheshire cat, and Daenerys merely flopped onto her bed and pressed her pillow to her face. Missandei merely laughed as Daenerys sat there, until a knock sounded at the door. Dany, barely having any energy, hauled herself out of bed and half-stomped over to the door, opening it, but seeing no one there. She looked around and a piece of paper flicked her in the face.

She pulled the drawing from the door, noting that was very detailed, and signed at the bottom. Scribbled across the page were the words:

‘Enjoyed tonight a lot. I know this isn’t as good as somethings you can draw, but I wanted to return the favor. We should go out again, though perhaps I could be your date instead of your friend. I’ll text you with the details.’ And Daenerys couldn’t help but smile.


	37. Inferior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya had always felt inferior to her siblings. Luckily, a certain Daenerys Targaryen was always there to brighten her day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the continuation of Hidden Away in the Corner. That will be getting a second part soon. Hope y'all enjoy.

Arya had always had a barely contained jealousy for her siblings. Robb was the handsome boy of the family, always attracting all the attention with his good looks and the way he carried himself, always so sure and collected. Jon wasn’t as handsome conventionally as Robb, but girls in the North loved him for his Stark features, ignoring his bastard last name in favor of his broody manner and mysterious air. Of course, Sansa was the beauty queen of the house, always looking perfect, always on time, the most popular in all of the North and in about half of the South. Boys worshipped the ground she walked on, and she made every bloody moment of Arya’s life miserable. 

Skip over Arya, because everyone did, and next came Bran, the prodigy of the family, who had already graduated college and everyone paid attention to because he had broken his spine in an accident at a young age. Not that Arya wished he had died or anything, or hated him because of the disability, he just overshadowed her. And he was younger than her. In fact, all of them overshadowed her. No one ever looked at the mousy girl with lean muscles from fencing, the one who wore jeans and hoodies to cover her insecurities, the one who blended in so well no one ever knew who she was. 

Everyone, that is, except for Daenerys Targaryen, who she couldn’t even begin to comprehend why the silver-haired beauty would look at her and even pay attention to a stupid, tiny girl. Arya wasn’t pretty, she wasn’t smart, and she certainly wasn’t deserving of attention. She was top of the fencing team, and had made it to national competitions, but no one ever cared about that. So to have a girl always wanting to sit with her at lunch and hang out with her, and actually be her friend. Arya didn’t think herself shy, she always stood up for herself, but she didn’t bother wanting to make friends. They only wanted to get close to Sansa, to claw their way up the ladder of ‘popularity’ and Arya wanted no part of it at all.

Daenerys would plop her tray down on the table and give her that grin, and Arya would return it, though less brightly than the junior, who always seemed to be a ray of sunshine in the dark clouds that constantly crowded Arya’s life. She always asked questions about her, how her day was, how she was. She was attentive, caring, giving to Arya what her family couldn’t give her. There was not mention of her family at all, for which Arya was grateful. It didn’t keep Joffrey and Sansa, and the other popular kids from picking on her, but it did help keep her sadness at bay, at least when Daenerys was across from her, smiling that beautiful smile and paying all the attention to her. 

Arya couldn’t help days like this, days where everything seemed to go wrong all because of her. She woke up on time, but failed to get Rickon up, for which her mother scolded her for almost immediately. Sansa apparently woke up on the wrong side of the bed, coming downstairs in a huff, glaring at Arya as though she was the worst piece of dirt on the earth. Her father was already gone, leaving her mother to complain about how she dressed, and Arya snatched her bag from the floor, deciding that she was going to walk to school. Jon and Robb were at college, meaning they only came home on the weekends and couldn’t drive her to school.  
She trudged to school, hoodie and jeans on, grumbling quietly to herself, until a bus drove by, sending a puddle of mud up and onto her. She couldn’t help but curse loudly and kick the ground, glaring at anything that moved. A car pulled up to the sidewalk where she was. 

“Leave me alone,” Arya called to them, starting to walk away, but the person in the car honked, making her jump. She turned, ready to chew them out, but started when she noticed that it was Daenerys in the car, eyebrow raised, smile on her face. Arya walked over, and the window slid down, allowing Arya to lean through it. “What’re you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing, Stark,” Daenerys said. “Hop in, I’m taking you to school.” Arya did as she was told, sliding into the front seat. “What happened to your hoodie?”

“Puddle,” Arya said. “And an imbecile in a school bus.” She slouched in the seat and Daenerys offered her a sympathetic smile before pulling away from the sidewalk and onto the street, beginning the short drive to their shared school. “Didn’t know you came this way. It’s pretty out of the way for you.”

“I normally don’t,” Daenerys said. “I just wanted to stop by and see if you were okay, but you mom said you’d already left.” Arya felt her heart inflate a bit with happiness, a feeling that didn’t often come to her. “Why are you walking to school anyway? I thought your mom drove you.”

“She usually does, but I couldn’t take being with my family today,” Arya muttered and Daenerys patted her on the shoulder, radiating sympathy. From anyone else, Arya would have hated it, but from Daenerys it was welcomed. “I’m glad I don’t have to walk though. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Daenerys replied. “What’s so bad with your family?” Arya, however, didn’t want to talk about it, and she pulled her phone out, hoping Daenerys would drop the topic. She didn’t. “I mean, I’ve met your sister, and you two are nothing alike, which is probably the reason why you seem to hate her. She’s such a bitch to you sometimes, but I guess you have to deal with it all the time.”

“You’re rambling,” Arya said and Daenerys closed her mouth with a snap and focused on the road. “And, yeah, Sansa is awful to me, but no one ever notices. And that’s the real problem. No one ever notices. I mean, they almost forgot when I went to nationals for fencing. Bloody nationals. They just don’t pay attention to me.” And just like that, she found herself spilling her guts to Daenerys, something that happened as often as breathing when she was with the Targaryen girl. 

It didn’t stop, not when they pulled up to the school, not when they passed through the doors, and not even when they were gathering their stuff at their lockers. Arya only stopped when they parted ways for class, and found that she felt much better than she had in weeks. 

They met again at lunch and sat at the same lunch table that they always did and Arya watched Daenerys eat, letting her words slide in and out of her ears, her tone shifted, making Arya tune in.

“You aren’t inferior to your siblings, Arya,” Daenerys said, the continuation of something she had been saying prior. “I mean, yeah, Sansa is pretty and Bran is smart and all that other crap that you keep telling me, but you...you’re so different from them. You can’t see it, but you are a wonderful person, and your talents are so cool. I mean, you can fence for Gods’ sake! That’s the coolest thing ever. And it doesn’t matter who notices you. I know you. And, I...I really like you. I want you to know that I think you’re special, and I hope that you won’t listen anymore to your family when they make you feel like you’re worthless.”

Arya stared at her openly for a few moments, barely blinking before she grabbed Daenerys by her jacket and pulled her in for a hungry kiss, ignoring everyone around them.


	38. My Kingdom Awaits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Wolf  
> Arya finally gets home and is greeted by her ecstatic family, only for the reception to be cut short by the presence of a Targaryen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is late, y'all. Hope you enjoy!

“Arya, wake up,” Arya was roused from sleep, blinking blearily at the girl in the other seat, shaking her shoulder gently. “We’re at your house, and I believe you should be awake to see them. They would probably kill me if I carry you in there, passed out.” Arya nodded, groaning quietly as sleep slipped from her shoulders like a jacket and she returned to the waking world, looking over at the beauty in the seat next to her, blinking at her with a small grin.

“And we certainly wouldn’t want that,” Arya said, and sat up, stretching out her limbs, jacket falling from her body and loosely fitting clothes flowing as she moved, joints creaking and popping. “They won’t kill you, seeing as I’m wearing your clothes and your scent is all over me.” She stretched again before reaching for the door handle. Daenerys, however, looked uncertain. “Okay, if they try to threaten you, I promise I won’t let them rip your throat out. Sound good?” Daenerys nodded and they slid from the car, Arya leading the way up to the doorstep. She knocked on the door, stifling a yawn that threatened to split her jaw as she waited for the door to open. 

“Oh my gods,” Arya looked up from the cracked cement of the porch to see her mother standing there, a hand over her mouth as tears brimmed in her eyes. Arya, who normally would have been annoyed at the over protective nature of her mother, stepped up and through the threshold to envelop her in a hug. Then the questions from the rest of the family started, pouring in, one after the other.

“Arya?” “Are you okay?” “Where were you?” “What happened?” “Whose clothes are those?” One after the other after the other, until Arya waved a hand to get them away from her, to give her some air. Daenerys, Arya noticed, hung back, away from the reunion of her large family, crushing her in hugs. Arya felt as though her bones would probably never recover from the strength of her father and brothers. 

Her father’s calm voice cut through the clamor, silencing every dissenting questions that her siblings may have had for her. “Who brought you home, Arya?” And the girl winced, knowing exactly how her family would react to her bringing a Targaryen back to their household. She motioned behind her, inviting Dany to come closer. “Who is this girl?”

“Uh, this is Daenerys Targaryen.” There was a rush of air as everyone breathed in almost in sync. “She freed me from the truck and drove me here. That means you can’t be jerks to her, okay?” Robb’s eyes narrowed, and her swallowed thickly as he pushed his way to the front, shoving Jon and Sansa to the side, stepping up to Daenerys.

“Listen, Targaryen, I don’t know who you think you are, but if you so much as misplaced a hair on my little sister’s head, I’ll kick your dragon arse back to Dragonstone. Do you understand?” His fist found a purchase in Daenerys’s shirt collar, making her recoil back, for fear of getting punch. Arya, though still weak from her ordeal and the sleep that riddled her bones, pushed Robb away from Daenerys with a small snarl in the back of her throat. “Arya,” he snapped at her, eyes blazing as he stared at her, walking back to where he had been. “She’s a Targaryen. Don’t you know what that means?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Arya said stubbornly, glaring at all of her family, daring them to challenge her. “She helped to save my life, and that’s all that matters to me right now. While you were organizing search parties, she found me and she pulled me from the truck. That’s the only reason to judge her. Her family name isn’t anything to care about.” Daenerys was behind her and the other woman grabbed her hand, holding it as she stood up to her family for the first time in a while.

“If Arya says she saved her life, then I believe her,” Ned said, earning himself a relieved grin from his daughter. It wasn’t often that he went against the flow of the family, there was often too much opposition, but she was glad he did it, at least for the moment. “Come inside then, so we can get some of your own clothes on you, Little Wolf.” 

Daenerys followed behind her closely, nearly stepping on her heels as they entered the Stark residence. Her brothers were giving them both dirty looks, but Arya ignored them. It didn’t matter to her what they thought, not if Daenerys had rescued her. She would be dead if it weren’t for the silver-haired beauty, but she wasn’t about to get into an argument with her family over it. 

Bran was looking at her with a strange expression, but she blinked and it was gone. Strange. Her father came up and wrapped his arm about her shoulder, holding her close as they came to the living room, where she flopped onto the sofa, feeling exhaustion wash over her, despite the two hour nap she’d had in the car. “Sansa, go get your sister some clothes,” Catelyn snapped, clearly discontent to see her in a Targaryen clothes. The entire rest of her family looked on edge, and Daenerys eased a bit closer to her, clearly hoping Arya would protect her. 

“I know you’re probably tired, even if you got a nap, but what happened to you? We’ve spent-”

“Days looking for me, I know,” Arya said, running a hand down her face. She hadn’t been looking forward to this since she had been captured, but her family deserved to know the truth. “It’s a long story.”

“We have time,” Robb said, still clearly angry with her. Let him be angry. She cleared her throat and began her tale, the same one she had been considering since her capture. 

“You know of the Faceless Men, correct?” Of course they did, nearly everyone did. The Faceless Men were a gang of elite fighters, dealing in the shadowy criminal underworld with a firm hand. “I may have joined them, and paid the price for my membership with my entire being. They only accept members who dedicate their entire selves to the cause, and if you refuse...you don’t refuse, but you know that already.”

“The Faceless Men?” Robb asked, clearly ready to explode. “You can’t mean that, Arya. How could you be so foolish?” The girl bit her tongue to keep from speaking as the rest of her family joined the discussion, questions flowing from lips as easily as water from a fountain. “They would have killed you.”

“I know that,” Arya snapped, finally having enough. “I made a stupid decision, okay, I understand that now. I just wanted to learn more and nobody was trying to satiate that, so I went out to learn myself. They were dangerous, and that was part of their draw, I see that now. I just...I wanted to learn more about myself and our family history.” The room fell silent, all grey and blue eyes on her as she spoke. 

“You could have just asked us, Arya,” Her mother spoke first, and Arya ran a hand down her face, already tired from her ordeal, the questioning not making it any easier. “We would have told you.”

“To be fair,” Bran spoke up, leaning back in his wheelchair. “You haven’t really offered it up before now. We always assumed it was a topic that wasn’t to be discussed.” Catelyn looked down at her hands, which were curled up in her lap, and Arya felt a pang of love for her brother, who was always ready to befriend it. “It’s no wonder the most curious of us sought out the most dangerous source. She wanted to learn, can you really blame her for that?”

“Of course we can’t,” Ned spoke. “We just wish that you would have come to us sooner, Arya. That way this could have been avoided. And you wouldn’t have had to drag a Targaryen into the mix.”

“She did better than you did finding me,” Arya muttered, still vexed by their constant insults directed towards her newest friend. “So I don’t want to hear anything more about Targaryens. I trust her, end of discussion.” They looked as though they wanted to argue, but Ned nodded his head.

“I guess I should thank you, Daenerys,” Ned said. “Without you, I don’t know if Arya would have been returned to us. For that, we are grateful.” Arya nodded, satisfied, before she got to her feet, a yawn splitting her jaws.

“I’m beat,” she announced. “So your interrogation of my rescuer and of me will have to cease.” She pulled Daenerys to her feet and dragged her away to the Wolf’s room, not trusting her family to be alone with her for a second. 

“Thank you again, Daenerys,” Arya said after a beat of silence. “You can make yourself at home, if they come in just tell I allowed it and to get out of my room.” Daenerys nodded mutely, and Arya flopped on her bed, settling there on duvet as she curled up to sleep. The other young woman crossed the room and settled on the other end of the bed, sitting there, a now constant presence. Arya drifted off into sleep once more, lulled to the brink by the feeling of safety and comfort of being home.


	39. Through the Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Daenerys didn't think they were meant to be parents, but perhaps this job was just as rewarding as everyone said it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is late. Just wanted to say that I'm probably going to keep randomly doing these little snippets with Daenerys and Arya in the 'Kiss Me' universe. Hope you enjoy! Just a reminder, all of this is unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

“Ugh, what?” Arya asked, picking her head up from between her arms, staring across the table, one eye already falling shut from the lack of sleep. Her wife didn’t seem to be faring any better than her, and her sister hovered over the both of them, probably giving her the glare of the century. “Sorry, Sansa, I really am. I just haven’t been...sleeps? Sleeps. I haven’t been sleeps in a few days.” Or a few weeks, if she had been honest. Maera had been a pain in the neck for them to take care of, and her sister knew this, and yet she kept nagging them about staying awake for the baby, do it for the baby. Arya could barely keep her brain moving to form words, let alone take care of a six month old girl. 

“By the gods Arya, one would think that you and Daenerys were the first women to parent a child,” Sansa said with a tsking noise in the back of her throat. “I’m sure that mother was never this way with any of us.” Arya groaned and cushioned her head in her arms once more, hoping to block out the nagging of her sister. Unfortunately, she would have no such luck, as the woman shook her shoulder, as though she had already fallen asleep once more.

“Sansa,” Arya began, picking her head up from the table to turn a tired glare towards her sister. “I am certain that our mother was in completely different circumstances than Dany and I. We both work, Mom didn’t. And she had my father. All Dany has is me, which, we both have to say, is the worst thing that she could have.” Arya looked over at her wife, who gave her a tired grin at that, which Arya returned. “And we don’t need you on our cases either. Maera is fine, you don’t need to check up on us every week to make sure she’s alive. We are competent parents, at the very least.”

“She’s right, Sansa,” Dany said, a beat after Arya had finished, the two already working in sync like they had been since birth. “Maera is asleep, she’s been fed, and Arya and I deserve a nice, long nap to recover our strength…” Her wife’s voice trailed off as she slipped right back into the drowsing state she had been in. Sansa huffed and looked at Arya, expecting a defense from her, but found that she too was asleep, head pillowed on her hands. Arya wasn’t really sleeping, merely resting, ears alert for the cry of distress that always seemed to ring through the air when Maera felt that they had gotten enough sleep, enough being about three or four minutes worth. 

As if on cue, a wail filled the air and both women shot up, looking at each other disoriented, as if already silently asking who would take care of it. They did this for a second, perhaps less, before Arya launched into action, already crossing the small house they had bought to where the nursery was, feet taking a well worn path through the living room. She pushed open the door and scooped up the infant, cradling her close to her chest, hoping to console her.

“Shh, shh,” Arya said, voice drooping with the tiredness that wore at her bones. Daenerys stumbled in after her, and took the child from her, holding her and whispering soothing words to her, pressing short kisses to the infant’s forehead. Arya curled her arm about Dany’s waist, and rested her head against her wife’s shoulder, staring down at their child, a smile tugging at her lips.

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

“Maera!” Arya called, turning her head around the other side of the table, looking for the five year old who had recently begun to play the game hide and seek. All. The. Time. “Maera! Come on out,” she was getting tired of this game, and it had only been a few minutes. She wasn’t sure she could last the usual twenty minutes it took to find the girl, who had taken to cleverly choosing hiding places that Arya could get into. She had to admit it: the girl had her mother’s wit. Arya dropped to her knees and began to crawl around on the floor, hoping to find her daughter before Daenerys got home. She was not going to lose her kid again.

“Mama, you can’t find me!” the childish voice filled the air, and Arya grinned, carefully creeping about the room until she found Maera and lifted the girl up in the air, spinning her about in circles, making her squeal in delight.

“Found you, Pup,” Arya told the child once she had stopped spinning them about, setting the girl back in time. “Just in time for Mummy to get home, isn’t that right?” She looked up to see Daenerys leaning against the door frame, making Maera turn and rush to her mother, hugging her legs tightly as Dany stooped to ruffle her hair, which was coming out in gorgeous silver locks, just reaching the child’s shoulders. 

“Hey, love,” Daenerys said, hefting the girl up onto her shoulders, where she perched happily. “Hey, Ar,” she greeted the Northern woman with a quick peck on the cheek, as was their custom when Maera was present. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, yeah, all went well,” Arya said. “Work was normal, and picking up Maera didn’t bring any problems, which was good. What about you? How was work?”

“It was,” Dany replied. “But I don’t want to talk about that now. What should we do now, sweetheart?” Her violet eyes darted up to girl on her shoulders, who was trying to urge her to run like a horse. They spilled into the living room of their home, the same home was when Maera was an infant, the toys of infancy replaced with a rocking horse and a few jumbo building blocks here and there, waiting to be tripped over.

The small family collapsed in a giggling heap, Maera between her mothers, the tiny wolf and the fierce dragon, who could barely pull themselves from the floor. Arya reached over and grabbed Dany’s hand and pressed a quick kiss to her wedding ring for a moment before she turned back to Maera and began to tickle the child, making her shriek with laughter once more.


	40. Brought Into the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Hidden Away in the Corner  
> Arya, and then Daenerys, makes her move.

Daenerys had made it a daily routine to meet Arya at the cafeteria and then move to the bleachers almost as soon as they had arrive, just to make sure they had privacy, away from the juniors and seniors that thought it best to make fun of the younger Stark sister. They would curl up together against the cool metal, eat lunch, and watch videos, talking about nothing at all, until the bell rang, and Arya went dashing off to her class. They passed each other in the halls and exchanged enthusiastic greetings, often getting run into by the wall of students that pushed at all sides. The change was evident in Arya, as Dany could see it, with a smile almost always on her face, her eyes alight, and her temper much less volatile. She enjoyed watching the slow smile creep up Arya’s face every morning as she bid goodbye to her family, only to turn and face her, rushing to greet her with a tight hug.

Today, they were waiting in line for their food, discussing their classes. Daenerys was smiling at Arya, and she was smiling back, and Dany knew that the girl was the only one who would hold her heart. Their happy moment was not destined to last (they never were) and Joffrey Baratheon came up to them, a sneer already on his face, Sansa Stark at his side.

“Hey, dykes, how’s it going?” he asked, and the cronies at his arms already laughing at the joke that neither of them could really understand. “Sorry, sorry, was I interrupting something?” Arya’s fist clenched at her side, but Dany held a hand in front of her to keep her from launching herself at the arrogant prick.

“Leave us alone, Baratheon,” Daenerys said, trying to keep her own temper in check. “We didn’t do anything to you.”

“Listen, Targaryen, you might think you’re the top dog around here, but you don’t matter, especially since you’re hanging out with Horseface over there. Seriously, just snog already, stop embarrassing yourself.” Arya swung her fist out, but Dany pushed it away, knowing that she didn’t want Arya to get expelled.

“Come on, Arya,” Dany said, stepping past Joffrey to head to their spot, as Joffrey addressed the student body.

“Good luck, Daenerys! I hope you don’t get disappointed!” 

Arya stared at the ground, and Daenerys could feel the rage (and embarrassment) rolling off of her close friend. She hated this, she hated every moment that Joffrey tortured her, because, though she would never say it aloud, she loved Arya, with every ounce of her heart.

“Stupid Joffrey,” Arya said, kicking one of the bleachers before sitting down, fingers tearing at the grass under her, blade after blade being ripped up. Dany watched her with careful eyes, wondering how she would truly react. “He thinks he can just push you around, and be an ass to you, and you don’t deserve that. I just...I hate that this is coming onto you because of me.” Daenerys knew that her eyes, though downcast, were filling with that dead sadness that had always been there, and she jumped in, plopping herself right next to Arya and wrapped her arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a one-armed hug.

“Listen, Arya, I don’t care what they say about me,” she began, speaking in low tones, in case someone had followed them. “They can call me a dyke or...whatever. I don’t care, that’s what I’m trying to say. I want to be your friend, no matter what.”

Arya didn’t speak for a long time, the silence only pierced by their stomachs growling on occasion. Finally, Arya opened her mouth, drew in a breath, and spoke.

“Daenerys, I haven’t been honest with you, not completely,” she hurried to cover her tracks before Daenerys could even begin to speak. “I haven’t been lying to you about being friends, nor about anything I’ve told you about my family. All the shit Joffrey gives you and I is real, believe me, and Sansa is still the bitch we both know she is. No, I didn’t lie about that, but I did lie about a something very important, and I’m sorry.

“You have been so kind to me, and I have only pushed you away with each breath, further and further until I was sure you wouldn’t come back. And then you came back, and I didn’t know how to react. See, I always watched you across the lunchroom, and I wanted to be you. I was fascinated how you managed to be popular, but not be a completely idiot to everyone. I had never seen that before.

“I can’t really…” Arya trailed off and looked at the ground, now picking at her nails. It was a tic that Daenerys had noticed, but she said nothing, waiting for the other girl to continue. She didn’t, not until the bell rang and she was getting to her feet. Before she left, Arya leaned over and pressed a long kiss to Dany’s lips, sending her head spinning. 

Daenerys hadn’t really kissed a girl before, not like this. Arya’s lips were slightly chapped, rough against hers, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Arya jerked back suddenly, as though she had realized that she was kissing a girl whose popularity was levels above her own. Daenerys was breathing heavily as she stared at Arya, waiting for her to speak.

“Daenerys I, I’m really sorry, I just, I just-uh, I’m really, uh…” Arya winced as she couldn’t come up with anything, to see, and Daenerys let a grin cross her face as she grabbed the lapels of Arya’s denim jacket, pulling her lips back down for another, longer kiss. Arya flailed briefly for a moment before sinking back down into the kiss, eyes slipping shut as she leaned in. When Daenerys pulled away and opened her eyes, Arya had a slightly dazed expression on her face.

“Does that tell you I don’t much care that you kissed me?” the silver-haired beauty asked, giving the Northern girl a small grin. The bell rang, and Arya made a move to get up, but Daenerys held onto her hand with an iron-like grip, giving her a look, grin spreading across her face. “You gonna head to class, or are you going to stay here with me?”

Arya chose her.


	41. She's My Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon tries to have a serious talk with Daenerys about his sister, but she isn't having any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between 'Early Morning Admissions' and 'Festivals'. Thanks to StoicLastStand for the hilarious prompt.

Daenerys hadn’t heeded Arya’s warning of waiting outside for her to come out of her house, and wished that she had. Being surrounded by the members of the terrifying Stark Clan, waiting for her girlfriend to come down from her room, wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences, and she wished she could have avoided this all together. Especially Jon. The rest of the Stark family hadn’t really had that many relations with her, didn’t know her as personally, so while they were cold, they didn’t ask many questions. Jon, however, was an old friend, one that asked too many questions most days. Today, he asked more than too many questions, and the abundance of them made Daenerys nearly tear her hair out.

“Listen, Daenerys, all I’m asking is whether or not your intentions with my sister are pure? I mean, she’s picked you up from parties so many times, I’ve lost count, and I’m sure you have as well. The number of drunk texts you have sent to her has become innumerable and unacceptable, as well as the number of times you’ve stayed over in her bed. She’s my sister, I have to look after her,” Jon said and Daenerys shot him a glare, then looked up at the stairs, where she knew Arya would be coming from, praying that she would show up.

“Jon, we are having this conversation a few months too late,” Dany said, and Jon gave her a wide eyed stare that made her chuckle a little bit. “Perhaps when we first started dating, you should have talked to me.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Jon said, snapping his mouth closed as he glared at Daenerys with as much hate as he could muster. “She is my baby sister, I refuse to think of her that way!” The way his face was contorting made Daenerys feel a laugh rise in her throat.

“You don’t have to,” Dany replied with a Cheshire grin that split her face. “That’s not your job, it’s mine.” Jon’s face turned red, though whether from embarrassment or anger, Daenerys couldn’t tell. Yes, it still felt good to get a rise out of Jon, even it was over her girlfriend.

“Daenerys, if you make Jon any angrier, he just may have to kill you,” Arya’s voice piped up from stairs, causing both of the young adults to turn around. Arya was dressed as she always was, in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, though the shirt was nicer than anything Dany had seen. And, as she came closer, Daenerys could see the slight makeup that she had put on. Daenerys’s heart leaped into her throat as Arya came up with a smile on her face, the same grin that Daenerys dreamt of at night. “Hey, love,” Arya said, kissing her gently on the cheek. Jon growled low in his throat, and Arya turned to him, curling an arm about Arya’s waist. “Down, Jon,” she said. “This is my girlfriend, you have to be nice.”

“Says who?” Jon growled, and Arya fixed hm with a glare. “She didn’t even ask my permission to date you, so...so I get to be mad at her.”

“No, you don’t. She doesn’t need your permission to date me, seeing as I’m an adult and I get to date whomever I please,” Arya said, reaching out and taking Dany’s hand. “Back off, Jon, I’m going out with my girlfriend.”

“At least tell me you aren’t...you know…” Jon trailed off as Arya and Daenerys pushed past him towards the door. Arya paused for a moment, pulling Daenerys to a stop. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Arya whispered to him, giving him that wolfish grin that she had inherited from their father. Jon gaped at her as they left, with the words following them as they left the house.

“Dany, no!” And the door slammed behind them, cutting off whatever Jon was going to say. Arya whipped out her phone for a moment as they got into the car, and texted back. ‘Oh, Dany yes!’ and the two shared a laugh as Dany drove them to get dinner. She had been looking forward to it for the entire week.

Arya stared out the window as Daenerys drove, ignoring the buzzing of her phone in her back pocket. The lights of Winterfell passed by, lulling Arya into a feeling of safety. She always felt this way when she drove through her hometown, and even more so when her girlfriend was at her side. Arya ran a hand through her cropped hair, mussing it as she always did. 

Jon’s behavior irked her more than she could admit. It wasn’t so much his possessiveness, but his complete ignorance of what she could and couldn’t do. She’d heard what he said, calling her his baby sister. She wasn’t a baby anymore, and they couldn’t treat her like one.And it wasn’t Jon, it was everyone. Everyone called her Little Wolf or the baby of the family, even though Rickon was younger than her. Arya sighed heavily, and rubbed her eyes, turning her gaze over to Daenerys, who had her eyes firm on the road. 

“Can I move in with you?” Arya asked suddenly, causing Daenerys to almost swerve off the road. “Ah, sorry, sorry. I was just thinking, and...I can’t stay home any longer, not if I want to avoid interrogation every time you come over. I don’t want to do that, I know you don’t want to go through that. And I don’t have to move into your apartment, I just want to move in...with...you…” Arya finished stumbling over her words, and Daenerys stayed silent the whole way. She turned onto a street, which Arya recognized as the area where Daenerys’s apartment complex was. She pulled into the parking lot, where neither of them moved, waiting for something that to Arya was unknown. 

“You’ve always had such a way with words, I can never reject a request made by you,” Daenerys said, turning her head to offer another grin towards her, pulling her in for a searing kiss, sending Arya’s head spinning to a different world, a different time completely.

Jon needn’t know what happened between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this one is so late, I've just been very busy with life. Things should calm down soon enough, and I'll be back on track for the regular posting schedule.


	42. Fight Them For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya tells Jaqen that she will no longer be in service to the Faceless Men, and that she will be returning to Westeros to be with her Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of 'Monster' one of my earliest stories. Thanks to StoicLastStand for this. Hope you enjoy.

Arya stepped through the doors of the House of Black and White, feeling a chill creep over the back of her neck as it always did when she came there. She had returned from Westeros, but the Queen was still living. Surely Jaqen would have heard the news, and she would receive a savage beating for her insubordination. Arya found, however, that she couldn’t care less. All she was concerned with was getting back to the Red Keep and make her way back into the Queen’s bed to once more spend the evening with her. She found this distracting her mind, even as she entered the House of Black and White. Jaqen greeted her up almost as soon as she had stepped across the door frame, his face a still, expressionless, statuesque mask. Arya met his gaze with her own, trying to stay calm, even as her heart fluttered inside her chest, with the mere thought of return to Daenerys once more.

“A girl has returned from Westeros,” Jaqen said, by way of greeting, and Arya dipped her head to him, her own greeting. “I have had many birds from the Western land, but it seems the Dragon Queen still lives. The Gift has not been given. Why have you returned?” Jaqen asked, and Arya, completely stone-faced, answered:

“The Gift has been given,” she said, and he blinked, a sign that he was surprised. “And a girl wishes to go back to Westeros, to stay.”

“The Dragon Queen yet lives. The Gift was not given,” Jaqen said, staring at her closely, most likely searching her face for any signs of lie that he had taught her to erase from it. “Why do you say that it was given? Is a girl lying?”

“A girl is not lying,” Arya replied evenly, while Jaqen began to walk in circles around her, she faced ahead, not gracing him with a look in his direction. “The Gift was given, but not to Daenerys of House Targaryen. The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms gave the gift, but it was to my contract here, as well as a girl’s innocence.” Arya allowed herself a small smirk, and she noticed the way Jaqen’s face contorted in the slightest bit, taken aback by her blunt words. “I regret to inform you that I only came back here to tell you in person that I will no longer be in your service.”

“A girl cannot leave,” Jaqen said. “You owe many things to the House of Black and White, and the Many Faced God will not let you out of his service at the word of one of his offerings. Be warned girl, should you walk out those doors, the Many Faced God will find you, and he will rip your lover from you.” Arya disregarded the threat, pushing back through the doors of the House of Black and White, feeling the chill leave her as she made her way to the docks. She planned to catch a ship back to Westeros, back to Daenerys. 

She jumped at every slight noise that could have been dangerous. Her eyes were always flitting to the side, even once she had boarded the ship to return to Westeros. It was a long journey, but Arya, knowing that there were no Faceless Men on the ship, made sure that her nerves were sharp and that she kept training. 

Laying in the bottom of the ship at night, the Stark child thought of what she would say to Daenerys, how she would explain that she wasn’t going to slip out into the night as she had done before. The coin of the Faceless Men found its way into her fingers, and she knew now that she had stolen it from those who had been her brothers and sisters. She clenched it tight in her hands and shoved it back into her pockets. May the Many Faced curse them all. 

It was nearly a week before they reached the port in King’s Landing. Arya had never thought she would miss the city, but perhaps it was only the Queen that she missed. The city didn’t matter to her at all. The walls could crumble and the people could die, and Arya wouldn’t bat an eye.

She slipped through the night, up into the Red Keep, sliding between the open window and the curtain, sitting there on the sill, watching Daenerys’s chest rise and fall in an uneven rhythm. Things wouldn’t be the same, that she knew. She had put them both at a great risk, leaving the Faceless Men as she had. She was a target now, as was the Queen, and if she had been a better guardian, a better subject, she would leave now, and keep Daenerys completely safe.

“Are you going to sit there all night?” the Queen asked. “Or are you going to come in?” Arya smirked and jumped off of the window sill, prowling across the room like the wolf she was, dropping off a cloak and a leather breastplate along the way. It left her only in a shirt and trousers.

Daenerys was sitting on the bed with a light sheet draped over her body, her violet eyes sparkling with delight at seeing Arya a few days earlier than had originally been estimated. Arya slid into bed next to her, pulling the Queen close, kissing her forehead chastely before curling into her.

Neither of them said anything, and Arya was glad, seeing as she wasn’t sure what she could say. There wasn’t anything to say. She had ended it, all for the petite woman cradled in her arms. The only thing she could hope would be that she hadn’t given up her whole future for a short affair, a stupid fling that would tear her heart out once it was over. A soft hand pressed against her cheek, guiding her face down to Dany’s, whose eyes were concerned, open, and Arya gave her a small smile in return, one she rarely let anyone see.

“What’s wrong, Wolf?” Daenerys asked, and Arya felt her hardened heart melt a little at the nickname that the Queen had given her. Soft lips met her own sweetly and Arya melted even further, muscles that were normally tense relaxing under her lovers gentle lips and fingers.

“I’m worried,” Arya admitted. “The Faceless Men...they will not stop until you and I are dead, whether they wait a year or twenty.” She sighed, and Daenerys ran a hand through her hair, encouraging her to keep talking. “I do not want to be the reason you die, Daenerys. I would never forgive myself if I were to be.”

“Then never leave my side,” Daenerys said. “We shall have every food checked and then checked again for poison. I will make you my Queensguard, and you shall be able to keep me safe how you see fit.” Arya felt her breath catch.

To be a part of the Queensguard, to be a knight had been what she had been wanting since she was a child. And to defend a Queen, a Queen that she lay with every night she could afford to...it was like a dream being offered upon a silver platter. It was too good to be true.

“But I could not marry you,” Arya argued weakly, but Daenerys smirked, rolling her over on the bed.

“I do not wish to be married. I have been married enough. I just want to love you.” Any protest was stolen away by a kiss.


	43. Golden Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maera is getting older, and Arya and Daenerys cope a bit with the change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that this is so late, everyone. My updates will become much more sporadic, and I probably won't post every other day. Sorry to disappoint.
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'd and written very quickly. I hope you enjoy it.

“Daenerys!” Arya shouted, balancing a baby on her hip, looking over to her wife, who was busy cooking in the kitchen. “Have you seen Maera today?” Daenerys made a noise to announce that, no, in face, she hadn’t, she had been taking care of Nyck, the newest addition to their little family. Arya was hefting the baby about now, since she had only just returned from work. He wasn’t as fussy as Maera had been, but still required nearly all of their attention. Arya had been hoping to spend a little time with Maera for the evening, to assure the girl that she hadn’t been forgotten in the rush of the baby.

“Do you have Nyck?” Daenerys called back after a moment, and Arya strode over to the kitchen, Nyck still on her hip as she leaned in the doorway. Daenerys turned her head briefly from the work she was doing and greeted Arya with a small peck, one of the longest signs of physical affection they had shared since Nyck had been born. The baby reached for his other mother, but Arya calmed him down gently. “How was your day?” the silver-haired woman asked, stirring some concoction on the stove, presumably to be their dinner. “Did you finally get the Chief to change your schedule back to the way it was?”

“Uh, yeah, he did,” Arya replied, unfocused on the question, more focused on what she needed to ask her. “Would you mind keeping an eye on Nyck, just for a short time? I want to go talk with Maera for a little while, she been acting a little off lately.” Daenerys nodded and took Nyck from her hands immediately, setting him in the high chair strategically placed in the kitchen where Daenerys could watch him and make dinner at the same time.

Arya made her way over to Maera’s room, knocking lightly on the door. Her daughter was slouched on her bed, a book in her hands as the eight year old read in the dim light of the room. She looked up, her violet eyes, just like Daenerys’s, meeting Arya’s. 

“Hey Mum,” Maera said, setting her book aside as Arya sat down on her bed. She reached over and gave her daughter a hug, and Maera crawled up into her lap, settling there. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Pup,” Arya replied, kissing the top of her head. “I came to ask you how your day was.” Maera lit up with excitement, turning in Arya’s lap to speak excitedly with her. 

“It was great, Mum,” the girl began excitedly, speaking at nearly a mile a minute. “We went to the zoo today, and we got to see dragons, like the ones in the story books, although, they were small, and they didn’t have wings, so does that make them a dragon?” Arya was about to answer, when her daughter’s mind sped along, faster than Arya could keep up with. “We saw elephants too, and they were sooo big, Mum, I can’t even describe it.”

Arya smiled and listened as her daughter carried on and on about her trip to the zoo, until Daenerys called their in for dinner. Arya hefted Maera into her arms and carried her back to the table, both of them grinning brightly as they went.

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

“Leave me alone!” Maera shouted, slamming the door to her room with a bang, making both Arya and Daenerys wince, and making Nyck look around in confusion at the loud noise originating from the direction of his sister’s room. There was another shout, unintelligible to the two outside, who exchanged worried looks. 

“Why don’t you go talk to her,” Daenerys told Arya, who shook her head. “Why not?”

“You should talk to her. I’m too stubborn to have a civil conversation with our volatile teen daughter. Besides, there are a few case reports I need to turn into the Chief.” Arya took Nyck’s hand and led him to the office of their newest house, leaving Daenerys to knock on the door of Maera’s room, a prayer to the Old Gods on her lips, hoping beyond hope that Maera wasn’t going to completely explode at her.

She opened the door slowly, and saw Maera flopped face first onto her bed, blonde hair strewn about over the pillow and blankets. Dany crossed the room in moments, sitting down next to her daughter, stroking her hair as the girl’s shoulders heaved with sobs. “Oh, Maera,” she cooed gently, drawing the girl into a hug. “What’s wrong, Pup?” Even if she used the nickname that Arya used for their daughter, she couldn’t really care.

Throughout the sobbing mess, Daenerys was able to put together that one of the girls that Maera had known only a few years prior, in middle school, had pulled a complete 180, and had been a complete bitch to her. “She just...she wasn’t the same, Mama. She was horrible, and it ruined everything.” Daenerys ran her fingers through Maera’s hair, trying to calm her.

“Don’t worry, Pup,” Daenerys said quietly. “You don’t need her if she’s going to turn on you like that.” Maera sniffed quietly, wiping her face with the back of her. “See, now let’s go see what your Mum is up to. She may be able to tell you about one of the cases she’s been working on.”

Maera lit up again, mustering up a brave face and jumped from her bed. Daenerys followed the teen and stood in the doorway as she went over to Arya to give a hug to her. Arya beckoned her over and Nyck rushed to her with a hug, the seven year old still oblivious to the problems his older sister was facing. Arya drew Daenerys in for a kiss, a short peck (as Nyck would probably make a loud exclamation of disgust) and returned to her work. 

“What’s for dinner?” she asked, typing away at her computer frantically.

“Dunno. I’ll think of something. Come on, Nyck. Let’s go make some dinner,” Daenerys turned and walked from the room, Nyck trotting along behind her.


	44. Speed Yourself on the Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya Stark, known to nearly all as the Blood Wolf, is a pirate who has ravaged the Narrow Sea and the coasts of Westeros and Essos.

It was well known that the one known as the ‘Bloody Wolf’ was one of the most dangerous individuals that had ever lived. She reigned as a queen of the Narrow Sea, ravaging any trading ship that didn’t pay her for protection. Her ship was one of the smallest, fastest vessels that had ever sailed the seas. And she was the captain, the one known as Arya Stark, but only to those who knew her. Those people were all dead, however, never to return from their watery grave. Some claimed she was merely a ghost, a phantom that fools believed in, a children’s tale.

She stood at the front of her ship now, wind blowing her shaggy short locks around, whipping her in the face as she waited for them to reach the shore. Arya Stark knew her target, the so called Dragon Queen in Meereen, who, it was claimed, had riches beyond a man’s wildest imaginings. Such a thing sounded just the job for the Bloody Wolf. She shouted for her men to be ready to drop anchor and to lower their smaller boats into the water. She herself readied her weapons and assisted her men, grinning at them while she did so.

They ran dropped anchor soon after that, and she selected a small team of men, those she trusted the most. Gendry Waters, one of the strongest men she had, and the man who had stuck by her side the longest of any of her crew. She trusted him the most, even if he was a bastard. Hot Pie followed soon after, their cook and a trusted advisor. He was a childhood friend of Gendry’s, and had been brought aboard soon after the bastard. The last man, well, woman, over the edge of the ship was a girl they knew only as the Waif. She was a skinny ratlike girl, who wasn’t much good beyond getting into small places. Luckily for her, it was exactly what the small team needed for this mission.

Arya stood at the helm, her face concealed by the cloak she had draped over her shoulder. They had slipped in under the cover of darkness, making Arya smile. This was going to be too easy.

They ran aground quickly and Arya jumped off their dinghy, looking around, eyes sharp for almost anything that moved. Gendry, Hot Pie, and the Waif piled out behind her onto the shores. “Hot Pie, stay with the boat,” Arya ordered the large man, who nodded. She motioned Gendry and the Waif after her, and they entered the city in silence.

Meereen, for such a giant, bustling city during the day, was quiet during the night, few candles lit in windows in the lower slums of the city. The closer they got to the palace, the brighter it got, though even then it was still dark. Arya gave motions to Gendry to send him off to guard their entrance to the palace, the series of pipes that wove its way into the palace. Arya slid in, with the Waif not far behind her. Arya sent her to guard the inside entrance to the pipes. Arya continued on alone.

She made her way through the halls of the palace, up to where the Queen slept. Her cutlass hung at her side, eyes sharp as she looked about for the right door. It would be ornate, fitting for the Queen that had supposedly torn down the slavery in this eastern country. Perhaps it could be true, but Arya doubted it, and she wasn’t interested in the politics of the Queen. All she wanted was the gold. She crept through the halls on light feet, and finally found the door, ornately carved wood indicating that the Queen resided within them. Arya carefully pushed open the doors, sliding in stealthily, laughing silently to herself. This was too easy. 

“Seize her,” came the order from the bed, and two hands came out, grabbing Arya’s biceps before she could move, or even react to the sudden movement. She was dragged towards the bed in the center of the room and shoved onto her knees. Rope bound her wrists, and suddenly, the guards were gone from the room, leaving Arya and its occupant alone.

“The Bloody Wolf, I presume?” the woman asked, leaning forward enough to be seen in the light of the candles in the room. It was the Queen herself, Daenerys, and Arya cursed silently. “There’s no need to try and struggle, my Unsullied are waiting outside the door in case you do somehow make it out of your bindings. What were you intending to do, sneaking into my room so late at night?”

Despite herself, Arya shifted in her bindings and looked up to meet the Queen’s eyes. “Wanted to know where you kept your treasure. Don’t have many people on this side of the Narrow Sea that like working for a pirate, so I thought I’d come here and ask.” Daenerys glared at her, creasing her brow. “Of course, I understand if you wouldn’t want to tell me. If not, I’ll be on my way then.”

“You think I would release you, just like that?” Daenerys said, crossing one leg over the other. Arya raised an eyebrow and attempted to rise from her knees. “You are wanted all over Westeros and Essos. You are a thief, a briggand, and you came in here, intending to steal all of my riches from me. I will not release you.”

“Please, Your Highness, I humbly beg for your forgiveness,” Arya said, lying through her teeth with every word. Daenerys, for her part, raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Not going to believe that, are you? I wouldn’t blame you for that, I wouldn’t trust myself either. I am, after all, a briggand.” She offered the Queen a smirk, and was rewarded with the cold, royal gaze.

“I will offer you this once, and once only,” the Queen prefaced what Arya’s sentence would be. “I will release you, as long as you never show your face on the coast of Essos again. Ravage the Narrow Sea at your pleasure, but set foot on the coast of Essos, and I will hear of it. I will set the hoards of my army against you, and you will not leave alive. You are to leave my people in peace. Am I understood?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Arya said, dipping her head as she crossed her fingers behind her back. The Queen could send all the armies after her, but she had the fastest ship that had ever sailed the seas. They would have merely mobilized by the time she was halfway to Westeros. “I swear to never set food on the sands of Essos again.”

This seemed to please the Queen, who nodded to herself and went around behind Arya, untying the ropes that held her wrists. Once they fell free, Arya turned, swift as a deer, grabbing the Queen’s wrists in an iron grip. Daenerys gasped, once, before Arya had switched both the slim wrists into one of her hands and pressed the other to the Queen’s mouth, silencing her.

“A word of advice, Your Grace,” Arya said with a small grin, tightening her grip, making the Queen whimper slightly in pain. “Never trust a pirate. We are want to betray even the most beautiful of Queens.” She bound the Queen’s wrists and cut a strip from a blanket, tying it in the Queen’s mouth, silencing her. “Now then, you’ll come quietly, or I won’t hesitate to run you through.” Daenerys nodded, indicating that she understood, and Arya began to make her way towards the window, the Queen in tow. She struggled briefly, but Arya tightened her grip on the forearm she held, dragging the oh so high and mighty Daenerys Targaryen behind her.

They exited through the window, once Arya had tied Daenerys to her as they slid down the side of the Great Pyramid. She kept a close eye on the Queen, moving under the cover of Darkness. They hit the bottom and she passed Gendry and the Waif, motioning them to follow her. 

“You got their Queen, then?” Gendry asked, following close behind Arya and their captive. Arya gave him a terse nod with a small smile.

“Of course I did,” Arya said. “It was my plan all along, I just made you think I was headed for the riches.” They fell silent after that and piled into the boat with Hot Pie, who was stunned into silence by the mere sight of a queen.

Only once they were a good ways out onto the water did Arya removed the gag from Daenerys’s mouth, allowing her to speak. The Dragon Queen, for her credit, managed to stay calm enough to speak with her sensibly.

“What do you intend to do with me, then?” the Queen asked, and Gendry slung his arm over her shoulder, heedless of common courtesies when dealing with royalty. Arya allowed it, if only to watch the uncomfortable expression watch Daenerys’s face.

“Well, you see, Your Highness, we intends to ransom you off, give your people the option of paying for your safe return or -” he paused for a moment, drawing his finger across his neck, making a choking sound. “No more Dragon Queen, if you understand.”

“You intend to kill me,” Daenerys said, and she removed his hand from about her shoulder, shoving him away. “If you intended to do so, why not do it when you and I were in my chambers?” She turned back to Arya to ask the question.

“We will not kill you, not if your subjects can bring together the funds to ensure that you will not be hurt during the long voyage back home,” Arya said as they reached their ship, Nymeria, named after the warrior queen. “We will treat you with the utmost respect,” she directed a glare at Gendry over the Queen’s shoulder. He merely gave her a shrug, and helped Hot Pie with the rowing. “You will reside in my cabin for a month, until we receive word that your people have or have not gathered the funds. Should they not gather the funds, we will kill you, but it shouldn’t come to that, now should it?”

The pirate captain flashed Daenerys a grin before stepping onto the ship to be greeted by the sailors that would soon welcome a queen among their ranks. With luck, everything would go smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few more parts to this, if you like the idea.


	45. Even at the End of the World (P. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The post-apocalyptic AU that nobody asked for, wherein Arya, against the wishes of her community, goes out in search for other humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will definitely be continued, probably in 3 parts. Hope you all enjoy.

“Sansa!” Arya was shouting, racing across the barren landscape, feet pounding, sending dust flying out behind her, firing random shots with her gun behind her. “Sansa, for the love of the Old Gods, where are you?” Another round of shots, and the magazine had run out, making Arya curse. She strapped the gun to her back, running out of breath as she raced across the plains. Finally, Sansa came pulling up in their supply car. Her sister pulled to a stop for just long enough for Arya to jump in and Sansa peeled across the wasteland, speeding away from the groaning, stumbling hoard behind her.

“What were you thinking, going out alone?” Sansa snapped at her, and Arya looked behind them, sniping a few of the creatures before turning back in her seat to look at Sansa. “Jon specifically told you-”

“I know there are survivors out there,” Arya snapped back. “We can’t be the only ones. You and the rest of our family can leave them to die, but I certainly won’t, even if it means setting out by myself-”

“Arya!” Sansa said, turning to look at her, before her eyes snapped back to the road, looking almost painful. “Jon and I just don’t want to lose anyone else, okay? We already lost Robb and Gendry,” Arya took a moment to look away, remembering her dead lover before turning back to Sansa, eyes blazing. “We can’t afford to lose anyone else. You’re important to us, Arya.”

“I know, but...there are people out there, Sans,” Arya said. “I can feel it, and if you just let me take a small team to find them, we could increase our ranks and make ourselves better.” Sansa snorted and Arya sank down into the seat of the Jeep, huffing quietly. They drove for miles and miles, and Arya had just started to fall asleep when the car jolted to a stop and she snapped awake, looking around in confusion for a brief moment.

“Talk to Jon if you’re really wanting to form an expedition,” Sansa said, hopping out of the car, leaving Arya to follow after pulling her gun from the back. She stalked into the clearing surrounded by a meager collection of tents after Sansa, looking around, daring anyone to question her. No one did, not for the time being. It would come, soon enough, but they let her retire to her tent for the moment.

She lay there, on the ground, staring up at the fabric of her tent, the smell of Gendry still swirling around her head, there even though he had been dead for almost six months. Shadows moved outside her tent, but Arya didn’t pay them any mind, not until one that looked suspiciously like Jon stopped in front of it, hesitating.

“Come in Jon, I can’t stand to see you so awkward,” Arya called, with more bravado than she actually felt. He stepped through the flaps, his movements bumbling, like the fool he could stand to be around Arya. “What is it?”

“You left again, Arya,” he said hotly, his face contorted in a frown. “You weren’t supposed to do that, you promised that you wouldn’t.” Arya sighed and got to her feet, stepping up until her boots were square against Jon’s.

“I promised no such thing,” Arya replied. “I only said that I would think my actions through. I did, and thought it best to pursue the hint that I’d gotten.”

“What hint?!” Jon asked, his frustration and annoyance with her boiling through. “We have no way to contact other people, and yet you claim that, somehow, you received a hint from an anonymous source? I can’t believe you sometimes. You are not to leave this camp again.” He didn’t even bother wait for a reply, and, in typical Jon fashion, left to sulk about one thing or another. Arya watched him go, her own anger mounting. 

She didn’t come out at mealtime, nor when Sansa pleaded with her to get checked over for wounds. It was only when the fires died down and most of the clan of survivors had gone to sleep that Arya slid from her tent, a pack of supplies on her back, extra ammunition, ration packs, water, and, of course, her trusted gun. She snuck across to Sansa’s tent, sliding inside to snag the keys, pausing briefly to offer a silent apology to Sansa before running for the Jeep. She jumped into the car, started it, and peeled away even as the guards began to run after her, shouting for her to stop. 

Arya never spared a glance back at them. 

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

Months passed, and Arya made her way along the wasteland that had been known as Westeros. Regardless of her convictions, she hadn’t found a single other human out among the wasteland. She stopped in several small towns, to restock food and water supplies, as well as rummage around for any ammunition, but she was alone. She knew people were out there, they had to be, but she just had yet to find them. She traveled further and further South. Many of the forest she had seen as a child had been completely destroyed in the aftermath of the wars across the continent. Just being there alone made Arya a little creeped out, and more than a tad bit insane.

“I’m not insane,” she said to herself, leaning against the hood of the Jeep, bottled water in her hand. “I’m just missing human contact is all. Once you find someone, you’ll be able to-” Her head cocked to the side at a shout, distant by the sound of it, coming from ahead of her. She pulled out her gun immediately and slid into the seat of the Jeep, her eyes peeled for any signs of the undead. Jon had called them White Walkers when they’d first encountered them, a silly name for their pale skin, blue eyes, and the chill of death they brought with them. 

Arya started the car and slammed her foot onto the accelerator, throwing up dust and dirt and rocks, bouncing along the rough terrain. It was more consistent than the roads, at the very least, which were always in disarray. The shout grew louder and as Arya crested a hill, she noticed a woman, with silver hair, tied into an intricate braid, with two more people at her side. The first woman, who was, frankly, absolutely stunning, was waving and jumping as Arya came closer. Arya slammed her foot on the brake, throwing up even more dust and dirt that showered her as the people came running up, already jumping up into the Jeep.

“Who are y-”

“Drive!” The silver haired beauty commanded in a sharp voice, and it was only then that Arya noticed the White Walkers behind them. 

“Hold on,” Arya barked to all of them and tore away from there as fast as the vehicle would take them, whooping loudly as they bumped and jostled over all the bumps in the dirt. Those in the back, the two companions to the woman next to Arya, were holding onto the car as tightly as they could. Silver, however, was grinning, eyes alight as they outraced the hoard on their heels.

When they’d been driving for about twenty minutes, Arya eased the Jeep to a stop, looking over at her newest companions.

“So, what brings you to my car?” she asked, only half teasing.

“I’m Daenerys,” Silver introduced, and then motioned to the two in the back. “That’s Grey Worm and Missandei. Who are you?”

“Arya,” Arya replied tersely, checking their gasoline reserves in the back. She would have to fill up at the next town if she could. A part of her (the part that hadn’t seen humans in months) was happy for the company. The other part (the one that Sansa appealed to) was wary of them. “You running from the White Walkers too?”

“White Walkers?” Daenerys asked and Arya nodded, stretching out her limbs.

“The undead. Zombies. My brother, that’s what he calls them. White skin, pale blue eyes. It seemed like a good idea at the time, that much I can swear,” Arya offered her a smile.

“Well, no matter what you call them, we owe our lives to you,” Daenerys said. “For that we are grateful.”

“I’m just glad that I finally met some other people out here,” Arya said. “I can take you back to camp that my… er, family and I have made. It’s pretty safe there.”

“Sure,” Daenerys said, looking back at Grey Worm and Missandei, who were asleep. “Let’s get going.”

Arya nodded and hopped in the Jeep, turning the key in the ignition, waiting for it to whir to life. Daenerys settled down in the seat next to hers, reclining in it, looking up at the sky, giving Arya the perfect amount of time to examine her newest companion. There were layers upon layers of dirt on Daenerys’s skin, mixed with dried blood, but that didn’t bother Arya as much as it probably should have. Arya’s thoughts kept trailing back to how beautiful the other woman was, but she shook her head. It was too soon after Gendry, it would probably always be too soon after Gendry. 

“You gonna drive or what?” Daenerys cracked open a violet eye, giving her a playful side-eye, reminding Arya of a look she used to give Gendry.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Arya mumbled good naturedly, and began the long drive home.


	46. Speed Yourself on the Waves p.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super late, and I'm sorry. This story will have one more part, and then I'll keep working on At the End of the World. Enjoy!

“Alright lads, let her be for a while,” Arya barked over the heads of her crew, shooing them away from the Queen who had regally sat herself upon one of the many barrels that currently littered the deck of the ship. Those who heeded her orders retreated back to their posts, not wanting to cross the tiny captain, and those who didn’t soon received a hit from her sword that sent them scampering away like dogs. Arya set herself up beside the Queen, grabbing a barrel for herself, hauling it over next to her, and then sat upon it, completely unlike the Queen. “You’ll have to forgive them, Your Majesty. They rarely see a woman when we’re out on the seas like this, and none have met a queen of your caliber. Your beauty is right to have songs sung about it.”

“Your men are heathens, and I shall not be treated like some-some whore to be gawked at by sailors,” the Queen huffed and Arya looked down at her boots, suddenly more sullen than before. “I wish to be returned home, if this is how you treat a guest of your ship.”

“Queen Daenerys, you know I cannot let you leave,” Arya said. “That is completely unacceptable, we must receive our gold, and the best way is to keep you here, with us.” Daenerys glared at her and stood from the barrel, leaving in a rush, silk gown flowing out behind her. Arya drew her hands down her face, and Gendry came to sit beside her, slinging an arm about her shoulder, as he was want to do.

“What’s got you lookin’ so down, Cap’n?” he asked, his voice slurred, his breath smelling of ale. Of course he had gotten into the booze barrels they had aboard, probably partying his life away while Arya was dealing with their ill-tempered hostage. “You got eyes for that Queen, eh?”

“Shut up, Gendry, and go back to your ale,” Arya muttered, shrugging his arm off of her shoulder. She wanted to get up, wanted to follow Daenerys, but didn’t think she would be welcome, not while this was still fresh in her brain. “Make sure the men get up early tomorrow, I want to get to Braavos before the sun sets.” Gendry let out a drunken cheer and stumbled back down into the galley, leaving Arya alone.

The sea captain got up from her barrel and scaled the main mast up to the crows nest, where she almost always went to think through things. The flag fluttered in the wind, and she knew they should get moving. Though they were already a good distance away from the coast, there was good a chance the Unsullied were already on their ways, with Imp as her Hand. Her sailors were cheering and shouting below deck, and Daenerys was sitting at the bow of the ship, staring out into the shimmering depths. Arya sighed and drew her hands down her face, wondering what she could do the make it up to Daenerys. She wanted her to be comfortable with her crew, seeing as there would probably be for an extended amount of time. 

After a long time of thinking, watching the waves and the boat glide through the water, Arya climbed down from the crow’s nest, stepping over to Daenerys, sliding into a spot beside her. The violet eyes turned to hers, bright in their anger and annoyance, but Arya offered a soft smile, or, at the very least, what she thought was one. Daenerys rolled her eyes and looked away, and Arya sighed.

“I understand, Your Grace, that this isn’t anything you may have intended, but I assure you that I will make sure you are treated with respect, no matter where you are on this ship. No one shall harm you, not unless my order is given, and I will give you the comforts worthy of a queen. It is the least that I could do,” Arya said quietly, staring out over the rising sun, the sun lit up in hues of pink and orange, one of the most beautiful sights she had seen, had she not seen it every day since she became a sailor and then a pirate. Daenerys said nothing more, and Arya nodded to herself, realizing that her captive certainly wouldn’t want to speak to the one responsible for her newest title. “Should anyone give you trouble, find either Gendry or I, and I will make sure punishment is swift and severe.”

Her parting words seemed fitting, an oath of sorts, her code of honor when dealing with hostages, not that she dealt with them often. Slightly surprised was she, that she was dealing with another hostage, when the last had been a year or two ago, when Arya had still been ruthless, without honor. After having to kill the hostage, however, Arya had found herself unable to take another, not since this opportunity presented itself to her.

“Why do you do it?” the Queen spoke with a quiet regality a stern personality that commanded Arya’s attention but was still asking a question rather than demanding an answer. “Why do you steal people from their people and hold them for money, when the Gods know you already have enough money to fill the Iron Bank?” Arya turned and sat back down beside her, legs dangling over the edge of the vessel, thinking through answering.

“It isn’t for the money, Daenerys,” Arya said. “You of all people should know that. You did not take Meereen from her people for money, you took it for the power. That is all this is- a secondary game. If the world knows that I have the power to take the Mother of Dragons from her Dragons, I suddenly become much more important, a bigger threat, and they are willing to help your safe return. It is good for both of us, and yet...you are not happy,” Arya stopped speaking quite suddenly, watching Daenerys’s face slowly twist into a frown.

“You believe that is a good deal?” Daenerys said. “You would risk having to kill a queen for the sake of power? Adventure? Is it truly worth it? As soon as my Unsullied find us, you will regret this action.”

“You would have them kill me and my men then? No trial, no rights, only a clean invasion of my ship and a slaughter of my men?”

“You are willing to kill me, why should I not be ready to kill you?” Daenerys asked, turning to fully face her. Arya shrugged, unable to come up with an answer. Daenerys stared at her, huffing quietly under her breath. 

“If your men can catch up to my ship, I will give you over to them willingly. That is,” Arya said, a sly grin creeping across her face. “if they can catch up. Lads!” she shouted. “Enough with the drinking! We’ve got a fleet of Unsullied to out pace if the Queen is to be believed.” The sailors leaped into action, moving at her command, and her command alone.

Daenerys watched as Arya the Personable Young Woman melted away into Arya the Pirate Queen, ready to take over the both Westeros and Essos, with the Queen of both firm in her clutches. The sailors moved quickly, unfurling the sails and the ship began to speed along with the gusts of wind that filled the sails at intervals. The sun had risen above the horizon, they had been up all evening, and Arya was exhausted.

After putting Gendry in charge, Arya stepped down to the cabin, where her quarters were. She opened the door, and began to strip of her clothes, intending to only sleep in a simple shirt and breeches, seeing as that was all that was really needed. She settled onto the bed, and rolled over on the cot that served as her bed, slinging her arm out to clutch at the side. Instead of hard cotton, she felt warm skin, and jolted awake, looking at what exactly was in her bed.

Daenerys was stretched out next to her, asleep, breathing deep and her face more relaxed than Arya had ever seen it. The sea captain herself softened at seeing the Queen in such a state, and she settled down, feeling an ounce of affection wiggle its way into her heart for Daenerys as she adjusted her arm a bit to keep her close before slipping into sleep herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just going to give you a heads up: I'm participating in NaNoWriMo this year, meaning I will most likely be taking the month of November off to work on my personal novel. I will be back in December. There may be one more post before the first, but if not, I'll see you all in December.


	47. Speed Yourself on the Waves p.3

They didn’t speak of what happened in the quarters, not once did the thought even pass their lips. Daenerys had awoken to find the Captain getting dressed, the spot on the bed next to her still warm from the body that had lain there just moments before. The Bloody Wolf’s back had been to her as she pulled on a new shirt, giving Daenerys a brief glimpse of the scars littering her back. She couldn’t look long enough to know what was the cause of the wounds, but she could certainly see the savagery in each of them, leading her to wonder how exactly this woman had come to be a captain on a ship full of men much burlier, much more hardened than her.

The Bloody Wolf turned once she had her shirt situated, and then offered a terse nod to the Queen, her eyes expressionless, the most dead that Daenerys had ever seen them. “I’m glad that you have awoken, Your Grace,” Wolf said. “You are free to roam about the ship as you please, no one will interfere with what it is that you do, so long as you do not try to leave.” And then she had gone, grabbing her coat on the way out, greeting her sailors with a shout before the door fell shut.

That had been three weeks ago and, true to her word, the Wolf made sure that Daenerys was not disturbed as she sat at the bow, looking out along the waters of the Narrow Sea, wishing for the raven that would indicate Tyrion had accepted the pirate’s terms. None had come, and as the day of her inevitable doom drew closer, Daenerys found herself wishing she hadn’t been a queen. It was silly, to want to give up the thing she had been working for her whole life, but it was the very thing that was about to get her killed. Was it worth it?

The Wolf hadn’t truly spoken to her after that first night, the first hint of mercy. Every look she got from the captain was cold and calculating, as though measuring the price of her head as each day ticked past. Daenerys had taken her quarters, the pirate hadn’t returned to her bed in the time she had been there, and Daenerys wondered if that was what could have angered her. No, that couldn’t have been it. After all, she had been given the cabin when she had first arrived on the ship, The Bloody Wolf had told her directly that she could have it.

Perhaps the Bloody Wolf was feeling angry at Tyrion, or whoever had taken over in her place, for not giving her the riches she so desired. Daenerys could find it in her to be angry at the Imp as well, if only for the sake of her life. 

Daenerys cast a look over her shoulder and found the woman staring at her as she sat at the bow, and the Dragon Queen offered a small wave, which was returned by the pirate captain, accompanied by a grin, the softest expression Daenerys had seen from her since the first night they had spent together. 

She spoke to Gendry, who Daenerys had learned was her first mate and closest confidant. It was said that even he did not know the Bloody Wolf’s true name, but Daenerys did not know whether to believe that. Much about the captain was a mystery, even to her own crew but she doubted that she would keep her name from someone who was as close as they claimed Gendry was to her. 

Watching the interact, Daenerys felt a jolt of surprise when she saw Gendry take control of the steering, the Bloody Wolf walked across the deck of the ship to where Daenerys was situated. Daenerys briefly wondered whether or not she should try to make herself presentable, but gave up on that idea. The Captain was quick, that the Dragon Queen had to admit. The small woman took a seat next to her as she had done the first night, looking out over the sea with her before speaking.

“Your people seem to not care enough about you live, yet you are their queen. Why is this?” The woman asked, looking over at her, confusion evident in her face. Then, she added, though Daenerys wasn’t sure she should have heard it, “If you were my queen, I would trade my ship for you.”

“They are gathering funds, good Captain,” Daenerys said, keeping her gaze fixed ahead, pretending not to have heard. “You have not given them enough time to gather their funds and send a raven to you.”

“I gave them a month. Is that not enough time to compose a letter and let a bird fly?” The Bloody Wolf asked, her voice vicious as her namesake, and Daenerys couldn’t help flinching away from it. The woman next to her shook herself out and then turned her gaze back to Daenerys looking kinder than before. “My apologies, Your Grace. Sometimes my temper runs off with me and I cannot control it. I beg your pardon.”

“It is no problem, Captain,” Daenerys said, and the woman sighed, looking back out at the sea. “If you wouldn’t mind, it is hard to think of you as anything other than Captain or the Bloody Wolf, but if I could have your name-”

“No one upon this ship knows my name,” she said, cutting through Daenerys’s words, making her fists clench automatically. “Names are power, my Queen, and I would not like to give you mine.”

“I am to die soon, Bloody Wolf, and I would like to know my executioners true name before they are to kill me,” Daenerys argued, and a small smile cracked through the icy cold exterior of her captor.

“You argue well, Your Grace, so I shall tell you my name. I am Arya Stark, the lost daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. They said I went missing years ago, presumed dead, but here I am.” Arya gave a small bow, as good of one she could give sitting down Her head dipped down, offering the respect to her, and Daenerys offered her a small grin.

“Arya,” she said. “I like that name, I truly do. It suits you well. It is strong, fierce, and beautiful, just as you are.” Daenerys snapped her mouth closed, looking away from the brown-haired girl, her face aflame. She couldn’t believe that those words had slipped out from her as they had, and she carefully worked to bury her embarrassment.

“Thank you,” Arya said, sounding very confused, but flattered, and when Daenerys looked back at her, she could see the happy glow to her eyes, something she had not yet seen. “Perhaps we should retire for the night. The sun is setting, and it doesn’t seem likely the raven will be coming tonight.” Arya got to her feet and offered a hand to Daenerys, which she took graciously, standing on the bow of the ship before following Arya back down to the cabin, glad that they had mended the companionship that Daenerys had been wanting since the first night.

Daenerys changed into the single nightgown that Arya owned, a small slip of a thing that seemed as though she had never been worn before Daenerys had gotten there. Arya, however, just pulled her jacket from her shoulders, unbuttoned her overshirt to the light white one underneath and then climbed into the tiny bed, rolling until she reached the wall, eyes already closed. Daenerys clambered in after the captain, keeping to one side, almost falling off to prevent contact between them. Arya, however, cracked an eye open, looking at her with those steel gray eyes that were almost always hardened, but now they were soft. 

 

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

 

Days passed and Arya opened up further and further to Daenerys, seeing as there was little to no chance she was going to be saved. There were only two days left in this deal she had made with the pirate, and she knew that she was going to die. Arya seemed to acknowledge this as well, and she humored a dead woman’s wishes, spending nearly all of her time with Daenerys, revealing bits and pieces about herself. She lived in the North of Westeros, but that Daenerys knew, as well as the names of all of her siblings. They moved past that quickly, however, and Arya launched into her time at the Red Keep and how she came to acquire an entire ship, stories that held Daenerys’s attention no matter what. 

The crew steered clear of them with a wide berth, leaving them alone to speak as they pleased. Daenerys found herself drawn to the tiny woman, wishing that Arya had come into her service, rather than captured her. It would have been easier. Arya, for her part, almost never mentioned the ransom on her head. 

“-and I dragged Gendry up off the ground, cursing him like the dog he was when-” Arya cut herself off of the latest story, some tale of her and Gendry in their youth, looking up at the sky. A black shadow pierced the blue, circling lower and lower until Daenerys made out the visage of a raven, cawing loudly as it landed, right next to Daenerys, a letter tied to its leg. Arya reached over and pulled the letter away from it, unrolling it, eyes scanning over the page. The parchment fell to the deck and Arya looked up at the sky once more, eyes dead. “They’re paying,” she said. “It seems you’ll get to go home after all, Daenerys. And you’ll get to kill this brigand, and distribute your justice.” Her voice was dead as well, some form of sadness that tore at Daenerys’s heart, completely unreasonably. 

Daenerys stared off at the water, thinking through things in her head before grabbing the letter and throwing it into the sea, watching it soak up the water and sink into the blue depths. She turned to Arya, a wicked gleam in her eye, something completely unbecoming of a Queen.

“I no longer wish to return home,” Daenerys said, getting to her feet, looking over her shoulder. “I would say that they can stand to be without me for a while longer, wouldn’t you? I’d much prefer to stay here, if only for a short while.” Arya’s face was skeptical, distrusting until Daenerys grabbed the collar of her coat, dragging her closer until their noses were touching, mouths barely an inch apart. Arya breathed heavily for a moment before Daenerys crashed their lips together, hands going from Arya’s collar to her hair, the short brown locks providing just enough of a purchase. Consequences be damned, she was staying here. There was such an alluring woman here, and Tyrion was in charge.

Arya pulled away, breathing heavily, staring at her with surprise. "Your Grace-"

"No words," Daenerys breathed, still holding the captain close. "No words." Arya nodded and moved in for another kiss, with the whistles and shouts of the pirates behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will see you all at the end of November! I may update once or twice, but don't count on it.


	48. Even at the End of the World (P. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up everyone? I'm back (NaNoWriMo is over) and ready to finish up the last story line of The Dragon and the Wolf. Hope you enjoy!

The drive was long, hot, and uncomfortable, and Daenerys wasn’t making it any easier on Arya’s mental state. It wasn’t that the other woman was cruel or horrible company, quite the opposite in fact. She was nice and understanding and caring, and Arya felt herself being pulled to her. It wasn’t made any better with the knowledge, given by Missandei over the fire one night, when Daenerys had retired to the tent she and Arya shared, that Daenerys was more interested in women than she was in men. Arya didn’t say a word at that, choosing to retire herself, sliding into the tent next to Daenerys, who was already asleep. The woman reached out in the middle of the night, when Arya had been tossing and turning for hours, and grabbed her about the middle, cuddling into her as though they hadn’t met days prior.

That was days ago, and Arya still replayed the scenario over and over again for each mile they drove. Daenerys always sat beside her in the Jeep, looking out at the passing wasteland, speaking occasionally, but mostly staying silent, allowing Arya to be alone with her thoughts. There was nothing she wanted less than that, and she wished for the music of Before, something to distract her.

“What are they like, your family?” Daenerys asked, turning to look at her. Arya spared a look over at her, noting the curiosity in her violet eyes before she turned back to paying attention to the landscape they were driving across. 

“Well, there’s Jon, he’s my older half-brother and the leader of our group. He took over after my other older brother, Robb, was killed by one of the White Walkers,” Daenerys gave her a sympathetic murmur, but Arya had already shoved the memory from her mind, having already sworn to herself not to think about it too much. “Then there is Sansa, who is only a few years my senior, though she acts as a mother to us all, which I guess is because she misses our mom. Then there’s me, but you already know me, so I don’t really need to talk about myself.” She offered a small chuckle, but Daenerys did not return the gesture, still listening raptly. Arya cleared her throat for a moment before continuing. “After that there’s my two younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. Bran is this genius who completely blows everyone’s mind out of the water. We have no idea how he does it, but he’s made our camp so much more efficient than it would have been without him. Rickon is the youngest, he’s still pretty young, but he keeps the spirits up.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Daenerys said. “I used to have a fairly large group of people who traveled with me. Missandei and Grey Worm are all that’s left.” Arya wanted to ask, she did, but she couldn’t bring herself to push, and they fell silent once more. It was hard to tell how much longer they needed to drive, how far until the reached their little camp. “I’ve not seen a...White Walker in quite some time. Not since the horde we left behind.”

“I didn’t see many on the drive down. Perhaps they’re dying out, seeing as there are barely any humans left for them to eat.” Ayra winced at her own words, and saw Daenerys do the same, instantly regretting her choice. She made a private vow then to keep from staying stupid, insensitive, no matter how well known she was for such things.

“That would be a good thing,” Daenerys said, but her tone was more melancholy than before. Arya cursed herself for making such a muck of things, but turned her attention back to the road, gunning the gas. They raced across the landscape, Arya’s hands tight on the wheel as she veered around gaping holes and dying bodies. The wind whipped her hair into her face, brown strands tousled and sticking up.  
“How did you meet Missandei?” Arya asked after a long pause, waiting for the answer, hoping she would receive it. It wasn’t often that Arya asked the questions, and perhaps, just this once, Daenerys would open up.

“She came into my company when I had still attended college,” Daenerys said. Arya knew such a thing had happened, Daenerys had spoken openly about what she had been studying (History) and her experiences (late nights of studying and awful parties) but she had never once mentioned that being where she had met her closest companion. “She was taking one of the classes I was taking, I can’t remember now which one, but we had to work on a group project. We just...grew closer after that. I can’t really explain it, but once things started going south, I took her and a few others and we fled Essos. We thought we’d be able to outrun it, but there wasn’t anything beyond Westeros, and this place was already full of the White Walkers.”

Ayra hummed quietly, casting a quick look behind them to see Grey Worm and Missandei passed out in the back, sleeping as they usually did when the driving went on just a bit too long for them. Arya shrugged and returned her gaze to the ‘road’ and then squinted against the glare of the sun, able to see the outlines of the design of our camp. 

“Almost there,” Arya said casually, and Daenerys perked up immediately, turning to face the front, squinting as Arya had done, only she couldn’t see anything. “Don’t worry, I know this place like the back of my hand, and I know what it looks like, even from miles away. We should get there in a day, if not less.”

“Wonderful,” Daenerys said. “I can’t wait to sleep properly again and eat food that has been heated outside the can. I’m certain I will enjoy the company of all of your family will be pleasant.” Arya couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or not, but the other woman seemed genuinely happy to be entering a place of safety, such as theirs was.

“It isn’t all happiness and rainbows,” Arya said, her tone taking on a snarky bite that was so common with it. “People die, we burn them. We run out of food, we have to keep our precious supply of medicine and ammunition stocked as best we can…”

“You burn them?”

“They can’t be infected that way,” Arya said, keeping her gaze fixed head, trying to push away the pain rising in her chest, remembering the smell of Gendry’s flesh burning after he’d died. “It’s the only way to ensure that they won’t come back to try and kill more of us.”

“That’s horrible,” Daenerys said, though it was in sympathy. “I can’t imagine having to burn those I love.”

“No one ever thought we would have to,” Arya said. “Those who die don’t normally return as zombies that want to eat you.” Again, Arya flinched at her callousness and fell silent, awaiting the time when they would come upon her home and she could prove to Daenerys that she wasn’t a complete heartless woman.


	49. Even at the End of the World (P. 3)

She was greeted like a hero returned from war, surrounded and embraced from all sides. She was certain that if she didn’t have claustrophobia, it would certainly develop from such an ordeal. Sansa and Jon were closest to her, both questioning her with a kind of bitter happiness in their eyes, relief that they hadn’t lost another one. She lost sight of Daenerys fairly quickly, as well as Missandei and Grey Worm, and though she tried to communicate that she wished to see her new companions, Jon and Sansa kept her in the same spot until she had answered the majority of their questions.

“Where were you?”, “How are you alive?”, “Did you see any White Walkers?”, “Who are those people?”, “Are you alright?”, and others, until Arya was sure she could tell the story forwards, backwards and sideways. The questions soon slowed to a trickle and Sansa embraced her once more, as their mother might have done. The gesture, while at first unwelcome, was quickly returned until Arya wormed her way from the tight grip of her sister, ruffling her hair and most of her clothes in the process.

“Nice to have you back, Little Wolf,” Jon said, reaching over to muss her hair but Sansa smacked his arm to negate that, the hint of scolding in her eye enough to prevent him from doing it again. “Now, who are these people you’ve brought with you? Where did you find them?”

“I found them during my travels,” Arya replied with a shrug, wishing that she could see how they were. “They were running from a horde of White Walkers and I-”

“You didn’t bother to think that they could have already been infected?” Sansa cut her off before she could finish and Arya rolled her eyes, wondering to herself how the world order had returned so easily and so quickly. “Jon, you sent them to the infirmary, right? They’re being checked over?”

“Sansa,” Jon said, resting a gentle hand on Sansa’s shoulder, attempting to soothe her. Ayra looked back and forth between them for a moment. “I sent them to the infirmary, but I was informed that there is no sign that they have been infected. Now, let our little sister talk. She has only just returned home, and she deserves to tell us of her travels.” Sansa sighed before relenting and adjusting her posture the tiniest bit before Arya continued speaking.

“They were running from a horde of White Walkers,” she said, deciding to pick up where she had left off. “And I allowed them to enter the Jeep. Well, I should say that Daenerys, the silver haired woman, she jumped into the Jeep without so much as an explanation and her friends followed her, ordering me to take off before I could really change my mind or think about what had happened.” They looked at her, urging her on with their eyes, but she merely shrugged. “And then we drove here.”

“You were gone for months and that’s all you came up with? That’s it?” Sansa asked, and Arya could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, partially from embarrassment and partially from anger. The anger won out, and she frowned, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I’m sure you thought you were doing well, but without you we were missing a necessary member of our team.”

“I brought more members for our team,” Ayra snapped back, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “And they are my friends now. We don’t need to worry about me not coming back, so let’s just...let’s just forget it, okay? I’m going to see if they’re settling in well.”

Arya turned on her heel and began to walk away, with Jon calling after her to come back. She ran a hand through her hair once more and navigated her way to the infirmary tent, where she hoped to find Daenerys and her friends. Pushing open the flap of the tent, she peered in, smiling when she saw the three Essosi people, sitting on the ground as Jojen Reed, their medical ‘expert’ checked on a few of the other things they checked for. Daenerys looked up when she entered, and greeted Arya with a smile, shifting over to make room at her side, which Arya immediately occupied, dropping to the ground with a huff.

“What’s wrong?” Daenerys asked, cocking her head to the side, and Arya sighed heavily, clutching at the edges of her clothes, covered in dust and sweat from clinging to her body for days on end. Daenerys placed her hand on Arya’s knee, looking sympathetic.

“I thought coming home was going to be different,” Arya mumbled, running her hands over her face when they had released the fabric of her shirt. When she opened her eyes, Daenerys was smiling at her with sympathy, and Missandei and Grey Worm were exchanging looks that Arya couldn’t quite interpret. “I thought that by bringing you three with me, they wouldn’t completely hate me for just up and leaving but...they don’t think they can trust you and they’ve gone back to treating me like a kid as if I hadn’t survived on my own for months before meeting you guys. I couldn’t take it…” Daenerys’s hand squeezed her knee gently and, almost in sync, Missandei and Grey Worm got to their feet, walking away from the two of them.

Jojen seemed to notice that something was happening on the floor of his infirmary and excused himself, leaving them completely alone. Arya’s hand fell to her leg and landed on the hand Daenerys already had there. 

“Just because they don’t understand what’s happening yet, they will soon,” Daenerys said quietly as Arya’s hand flew to her lap, where they twisted together. “And you aren’t a kid anymore. It won’t take long for them to realize just how important you are and how much you can contribute.”

“At least you understand,” Arya grumbled, and the hand on her knee withdrew to wrap around her shoulder, tugging her close. Arya barely reacted to the action, but shifted uncomfortably when Daenerys’s head fell onto her shoulder. She wasn’t used to the close proximity of the other girl, but she grew more and more comfortable, letting her head falling against Dany’s, and breathed out. “I don’t get why my siblings won’t accept that I brought you and Missandei and Grey Worm back. They’re only worried about whether or not I survived, they don’t care about you guys.”

“Obviously,” Daenerys said, her voice low. “You are their sister, we’re just some random people you picked up along the way. They value your life more than ours, we’ve already accepted it.” Arya grumbled against.

“But I value your life, and that should be enough,” she said and Daenerys grinned, chuckling. “What?”

“You’re adorable when you’re angry,” Daenerys said and Arya felt heat rise to her cheeks again before turning to meet Daenerys’s eyes, the violet sparkling with mischief. “Come on, we should get something to eat.” Daenerys got to her feet and hefted Arya up with her, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they walked to the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end everyone! It has been a wonderful journey, but I am officially marking this complete. Should inspiration whack upside the head with her mallet, I will add another chapter, but there will be no more regular updates. I hope you all have enjoyed the mess that is my writing.


End file.
